


If Fairy Tales Were True

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-26
Updated: 2006-03-26
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8093389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: When Enterprise discovers an ancient city, it is rocked by violent acts of sabotage. Set two years after the events of the Delphic Expanse. (02/21/2004)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Spoilers, general Season 3/Xindi story arc.  


* * *

THE MESS HALL HAD A DARK and soothing air to it. What creature under God would be up at 0200 is anyone's guess, but if that creature were up, this place is the best place to go on Enterprise. Captain Jonathan Archer could remember many a sleepless night in which he had taken refuge in here. He couldn't quite determine the reason for his insomnia. Perhaps he had had too much caffeine or maybe his body just didn't need sleep right now. He wasn't troubled over anything, so it couldn't be concern or regret. So Archer did what so many had done in such a circumstance. He reminisced. He let his mind wander to the past five years. He let it wander over the Xindi and the Suliban. He remembered all the people who had stood beside him over the years.

He then thought over to something that had only just happened a few weeks ago. He didn't understand how he could have forgotten, at least so soon. A group of Klingons had attacked and boarded Enterprise. Several fought to the death. One of which died before Archers very eyes. What had he meant by it? "The future moves faster than you think." Of all the things to say with ones dying breath, why that? For the life of him, Archer couldn't say. He realized that the dying Klingon's words were bothering him tonight. There was something eerie and mysterious about the phrase. It sent a chill up his spine.

He suddenly became acutely aware of a silent breathing behind him. He turned in alarm to see who it was.

"Sleepless night?" It was T'Pol. Her pleasant company was always welcome. She dressed in one of the body suits she had used to wear before acquiring her Starfleet commission. She was in the red one. It was the favorite among many male crewmembers.

"Yeah. Counting sheep wasn't helping, so I decided on a walk." Archer had noted that T'Pol had become accustomed to this Human crew's often-bizarre sayings. Still, with her logical Vulcan mind, she had trouble understanding many of them.

"Seven years I have been among Humans, five of which I have served on this vessel, and I will still be always puzzled as to why 'counting sheep' could be of any assistance to the Human sleep cycle."

Archer let out a short chuckle. "Monotony. Counting things is a dull and repetitive activity. Why exactly we count sheep, I don't know."

"Perhaps it is because sheep's coats are used to make wool, which is used in many materials to make bedding."

He let out another short chuckle. Her seriousness in such conversations as this was nothing short of comical. The first few months of this voyage, before the Delphic Expanse, the Xindi, and the Klingons, Archer found T'Pol to be the most irritating woman he had ever met. Now he couldn't imagine Enterprise without her. He didn't want to imagine. He found the idea that T'Pol could ever be anywhere other than right here seemed criminal.

Archer was unsure of how to begin. "Do you remember that Klingon who died in front of me, saying 'the future moves more quickly than you think'?"

"How could I forget," said T'Pol, echoing Archer's previous thoughts. She came over and sat beside him. "Is that what's troubling you? The words of a dying Klingon?"

"Something eerie about the whole thing. I just can't help but think back to the Xindi and the Suliban...and Klang. He was where all of this started," he said. "For us," he added quickly.

"It is unlikely that the dead Klingon was making any reference to this temporal cold war."

"I agree, but he must have meant something by it. It seemed so important to him that I hear what he had to say."

"Captain, I think you're simply tired. Unable to think clearly, you are grasping at fleeting meanings to fleeting moments. You should try to get some sleep."

"T'Pol." As T'Pol was rising to leave, she turned again to face him. Archer struggled with how exactly he was going to say this. "Do Vulcan's believe in an afterlife?"

T'Pol sighed heavily—did Vulcans usually sigh? She was clearly considering her answer. She sat back down and almost seemed to be clearing her mind. When she spoke her voice was slow and deliberate. She spoke the way one would speak to a trauma victim. Very consoling. Archer got the impression that she wasn't trying to speak like this, but it was more like she was trying to find the best way to explain.

"Yes. We do. Vulcans, as you know, have some telepathic ability. As you are aware, some of us can use these abilities to meld with other minds. When a Vulcan draws near to his or her death, he or she transmits the memories and experiences of life. The recipient is if possible a family member, or very close friend. If I were to die tonight, you understand that you would be the recipient of my Katra. Literally translated, it means, 'soul'. The body and Katra are then taken to Mount Salae, overlooking the plains of Gol on Vulcan. Our high priestess extracts the Katra and commits the body, by fire, to the land. I do not know if we truly have an immortal soul. I believe we do. I know that it is at least our life experience we transfer at death. It is scientific fact. I know it does not sound very logical to you, and you are correct. I, personally, believe that we follow these rituals and this belief because no being can truly comprehend oblivion. Further to that, there is no evidence that such a thing as oblivion exists, and it therefore cannot logically be. I do not have the answers to death, any more than you do, but I know that it must be more than an imagined nothing.

"Why have you asked me this? Jonathan ..." Archer looked up quickly at sound of his given name. It was perfectly welcome, but he was unaccustomed to his first officer addressing in this manner. T'Pol seemed to realize that it was allowed and continued, "Jonathan, you are my friend. Please tell me what is truly bothering you."

"I just wonder what it is that has to happen. Crewman Daniels, and the Suliban and their interference in everything. I can't help but think that, if it's all a hoax, then these people have more time on their hands than anyone in history. If it's not a hoax, then what do they expect me to do? What do they expect of this crew? Our mission is one of peaceful exploration. Our mission is not to be the length of rope in someone's tug-o-war match. I'm supposed to be the captain of this ship, but whenever the Suliban show up, I feel like I'm completely out of control of the situation. I know the rules changed the minute people started shooting at my ship, my crew ...at Earth. Every time we go up against them, it feels like..."

Archer didn't know how to describe it. T'Pol finished for him. "...Like they're somehow above the rules. It's as though the rules do not apply to them and it is all you can do to adapt."

"Exactly. Trip was saying the same thing to me the other day. He said, 'It's like they're playing game that only they know the rules to.'"

T'Pol finally understood what was bothering Archer. After the Xindi, the Klingons, and the Cabal â€”it still hasn't ended. The Suliban still manipulate Enterprise's mission, presumably, on orders from the distant future. This is what all of his questions were about. Life, death, and the afterlife: it all is based on a single question. "What does the future hold?"

T'Pol let out a deep breath and chose her next words carefully. "Captain, I do not know what our future holds any more than you do. I do not know what is to come next, for there are too many possibilities. In time, someone may learn how to divine the future based on an equation of random encounters and previous occurrences, but that someone is not on this ship. That someone is not on Earth, or Vulcan, or Andor. Finally, I somehow doubt that that someone is among the ranks of Suliban or anyone else claiming to be from the future.

"Furthermore, I believe that even someone from the future could never truly tell us the future. There are to many variables, too many paths to take, and too many possibilities, which may come to pass. It is unlikely that someone from the future could tell us the future for the simple reason that the mere act of interacting with the past would also change the future. If Daniels and the Cabal are to be believed, then that is what this is all about: changing the future."

Archer was deep in thought, considering everything T'Pol had said. A smile of resigned understanding curled on his lips. He gave T'Pol an approving look and said, "Thanks. I actually feel quite a bit better."

"I am glad to have been of assistance." If Archer didn't know better, he would have sworn that T'Pol had smiled back at him. Perhaps it was something in her demeanor that suggested that had she not been Vulcan, she would have smiled.

"By the way, what are you doing up so late?"

"I was unable to sleep, also."

Archer allowed himself a brief smile. "Is there something I can help you with. It seems only fair."

"I'm afraid not. It is a simple headache. I have already taken an analgesic for it. I have only to wait until it takes effect."

There was a mild rock followed briefly by second a one. It was too mild to have been weapons fire, but they had to check anyway.

"Archer to the bridge. Report."

The voice of Lieutenant Malcolm Reed burst across the intercom. Yes, indeed, he had been working the gamma shift as of late. "Two vessels seemed to appear from some kind of vortex. They haven't opened fire, but they're holding position opposite to us."

A vortex? It couldn't be after two years, but Archer had to know. "What kind of ships are they. They can't be Xindi, can they?"

"Negative, sir. I don't have to look in the database to tell that the hull configuration definitely doesn't match Xindi design. They...well, you really have to see for yourself."

As Reed's refined British accent seemingly left existence, Archer shot a puzzled glance at T'Pol, then back to the intercom. "I'm on my way."

* * *

Reed left the captain's chair as Archer and T'Pol stepped onto the bridge. At 0330 hours, none were surprised to see the captain in his gray T-shirt with his navy blue, drawstring pants. Many people did raise their eyebrows, however, at the sight of the Archer and T'Pol arriving at the same time. Reed caught a glimpse of T'Pol in her cat suit, which she never wore on duty anymore. Archer could have sworn that the armory officer had muttered under his breath, "Wow! That brings back memories." Archer gave Reed a slightly reproachful look.

Archer looked at the screen and did indeed see for himself. He understood what Malcolm had meant. The ships didn't look like ships at all. They looked alive. For all the world, they reminded him of the microscopic organisms he had studied in high school biology class.

T'Pol, at the science station, studied the sensor telemetry in wonder. "Fascinating. They have no discernible warp system, or anything we would know as a propulsion system. They have no thrusters, nor impulse engines. They don't even have rockets. Yet they are both generating a completely stable warp field. How it is being generated, I cannot say. They seem to maneuver at sub-light by the flagellating fins lining their hull on either side. The vessels hull composition is an unremarkable mixture of titanium and duranium. There are forty-two bio-readings on each ship, and both ships have a liquid oxygen/lithium atmosphere."

"Mr. Gregson," Archer called to the comm officer on duty in Hoshi's stead for the gamma shift, "hailing frequencies."

"They are responding, sir. Audio only," replied the ensign.

Archer inclined his head, signaling Gregson to open the link. "This is Capâ€”"

"Starship Enterprise NX â€”01. There is a matter of great urgency, which we must discuss with Captain Jonathan Archer."

The voice was metallic and monotone. Archer was vaguely reminded of the cybernetic creatures Enterprise had faced his second year in command. He gave a surprised look to the view screen and replied, "Well, what is it you wish to discuss?"

"The conference must take place here."

Archer looked over to T'Pol in bewilderment, then back to the view screen and the alien ships. "I don't thinkâ€”"

"Captain!" T'Pol was still intently focused on her readings. "A small compartment of the forward vessel now reads a gaseous nitrogen/oxygen atmosphere."

Archer focused on the view screen. "All right. Give me some time to prepare a smallâ€”"

Once again, he was cut off, mid-sentence. This time, it wasn't by overlapping voices. Captain Archer was enveloped by a red transporter signature and vanished from existence. Reed and T'Pol cried out as one, "Captain!"

Before anyone had a chance to react, the same red transporter signature reappeared and deposited Captain Archer where he had been previously standing. He had a slightly more exhausted to him.

Reed was the first to speak. "Where did they take you just now?"

"What do mean, 'just now'?" Captain Archer did not seem to fully understand what had just happened.

T'Pol answered his question. "You were gone for approximately two point four seconds."

Archer could not have been more shocked if T'Pol had suddenly burst into tears and fits of laughter. "'Seconds?' I was with them for hours!"

"Hours, sir?" Of course, Reed would be the first to ask for elaboration.

"They brought me aboard their ship. I it didn't look as alien on the inside as it did out. True, I was in a relatively small room. There was no one in there. There was only a small console with a speaker that they were using to talk to with."

"Captain," T'Pol began, "what did they speak to you about?"

Archer was about to answer and decided not to. "What time is it?"

Ensign Braddock, at the helm, answered, "0351 hours, sir."

"Resume course. The alpha shift doesn't start 'til 0730." He looked sternly at T'Pol. "Call a senior staff meeting for 0800. I'll tell you everything then. Right now, I'm going to use what little downtime I have left to get some sleep." He turned to look at the alien ships just in time to see them disappear. He looked back at T'Pol, his expression softening. "You get some sleep, too."

* * *

Morning was a drag. With only two hours of sleep, Archer wished he could just crawl back into bed and slip into a coma. He hadn't expected to be able to sleep after all he had been told but the second his head hit the pillow, he was out cold. He woke himself up with a shower. After ensuring that his teeth had been brushed, he donned his uniform and boots. He finished by neatly combing his hair. He took his dog, Porthos, for a fifteen-minute walk. After this, he gave the beagle breakfast, and went straight down to the command center, choosing to skip breakfast himself.

Everyone was present except Ensign Mayweather and Commander T'Pol was present. At 0751, T'Pol arrived, and three minutes later, Travis came in behind her. With the exception of Doctor Phlox, everyone was fully dressed in Starfleet attire, even T'Pol—to Malcolm's dismay, Archer, noted, as did T'Pol. Before Archer could say a word, Commander Charles 'Trip' Tucker spoke up.

"Malcolm says you had a pretty strange night last night."

"To say the least," Archer responded. "For those of you who have been listening to Malcolm, as I am sure most of you have, you would be aware that some rather unusual visitors abducted me in the middle of the night, and returned me moments later."

"Seconds, sir," T'Pol corrected.

Archer didn't respond. He paused a moment and took in everyone's appearance. Trip Tucker with his boyish southern charm stared through concerned, blue eyes. Hoshi Sato's expression, as usual, was one of great consternation and was, as such, almost unreadable. Archer remembered a time when young Travis Mayweather would have worn a look of concerned fear and uncertainty. Now he was serious to a fault. Malcolm Reed, who had apparently not slept at all in two daysâ€”-one of the hazards of occasionally working the gamma shift—, was nevertheless, as alert as ever. T'Pol was reliably as serene and, thankfully, unabashed as ever. Since T'Pol received her Starfleet commission, Phlox remained the only crewmember not wearing a uniform. He, in his loose fitting, matching brown pants and shirt with his traditional smock, also took in the appearance of the crew. His gaze briefly rested, disapprovingly, on Lieutenant Reed.

After a moment, Archer resumed his briefing. "They told me that there was a matter of great importance that they needed to discuss with me. I haven't had much time to debate on how I should approach all of you. I trust each and every one of you. You have all become more than my crew, and my friends. I have come to think of you as my family. I was told that, on this ship, at this moment, we have a spy." Captain Archer observed his senior staff again. It was like watching an old rerun of Monty Python. One could literally see the rusty cogs of thought turning. "They don't know who it is, but they said, that this spy works for a faction fighting in the alleged temporal cold war."

By now, everyone in this room was aware of the temporal cold war. They were aware of the claims of the Suliban, and of Crewman Daniels. Archer continued, "I don't know if what they said was true or not, but I do know that I spoke with them for at least five hours. According to everyone on the bridge however, I was only gone for two seconds." This had an immediate effect on them. Archer could see theories beginning to form. He could see thoughts beginning to take shape.

"If there is a spy on board, he or she could literally be anyone. I mean, we all know everyone on board. We all trust every member of this crew." Hoshi looked deeply distressed.

"Did they tell you at all how we're supposed to find this spy?" Trip sported his usual indignant feelings. He had always seemed quite irritated by the so-called time-travelers, which from his point of view never sufficiently explained what had to occur.

Archer couldn't help but smile. He could always count on Trip and Hoshi to believe in him. T'Pol and Phlox, on the other hand, were always objective, though open-minded.

Phlox was the next to speak. "Not to doubt their information. It may well be accurate, but I have to be concerned when events occur that defy the laws of time. Is it possible that this information was directly implanted into your mind, through some medical or perhaps psychic means, in order to save time?"

"I suppose that's possible." Captain Archer found that he couldn't entirely dismiss the idea.

"No." Archer had been somewhat stunned to hear T'Pol say this. "When Captain Archer was returned, time had clearly passed for him. His facial hair had grown a great deal."

"And he was quite a bit more tired than when he left," Reed interjected. Who was Reed calling tired? He sounded positively exhausted.

"To continue," Archer said, calling a momentary end to the senior staff's speculation, "The mission of this spy is apparently to stop us from making an archaeological discovery. This discovery will have something to do with an ancient race, currently believed to be a myth, called the Ionians. Apparently this discovery is supposed to have a major impact on the development of Earth. According to our faceless visitors, this discovery will prove what for centuries has been regarded as myth to be, in fact, reality."

T'Pol raised a single eyebrow. She would have to see this sight before she would believe it. Phlox seemed to be considering all that had been said. He, like T'Pol, was well aware of the potential ramifications of such a discovery. Archer knew them both well enough to know that they were already considering their contributions to such a discovery. Phlox, being a physician, would of course delve into any bone fragment he could find in an archaeological dig. T'Pol would stick to Hoshi like glue for any writing that might be discovered, and would find the time to confer with Trip on any ruined structure which might be found. Archer felt that that could simply be an excuse on her part to simply confer with the engineer. Then again, that wouldn't be very logical.

Archer knew it was coming. T'Pol was itching to say it. "What are we supposed to find?"

Archer smiled. "Apparently, an ancient ruin of a city."

Phlox beamed. T'Pol's eyebrows threatened to disappear in her hairline. Archer knew that in spite of the determination of the Vulcan Science Directorate concerning time travel, the mere possibility was enough to threaten T'Pol's Vulcan discipline.

Phlox asked, "Where did they say we would find this city?"

Archer's smile broadened. "They said that if we maintained our current course, the next inhabitable world we detect should be our destination."

"Is it inhabited." Of course T'Pol would ask that. Archer had to tell the truth.

"They didn't say. In any case, the ruins are supposed to be subterranean. We should be able to come and go easily enough without being detected."

"And what about this spy?" Thus, Malcolm brought them all crashing back to reality.

"I was thinking," began Trip, "that the best way to undermine a mission like that would be to sabotage our sensors and shuttle pods. If there is a spy, we might consider starting in my own engineering department."

"I agree," added T'Pol. "Also, we have to consider that this intruder's primary goal is to prevent this discovery in the first place. Therefore, we should maintain a close watch on our warp drive and navigational systems."

"And the comm systems." Hoshi could usually find what others generally overlooked. "Should we succeed in making this discovery, the first step to preventing us from telling anyone would be to knock out communications."

"What if ...whoever this is, finds a more permanent way to stop us?" Travis very rarely contributed to a staff briefing. Every one looked at him in somewhat mild surprise, largely due to the fact that he rarely did anything but just listen and comment afterwards.

"They're going to have a hell of time with it." Captain Archer looked squarely at Ensign Mayweather and then to Lieutenant Reed. "No more night hours, for the time being. I need you alert and focused."

"Sir, I'll get a security detail on the shuttle bay, and in main engineering."

"You should also check out the crew profiles. Our spy probably came on board with last years crew replacements."

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted."

"You're making a mistake."

"How so?"

"You're operating on the assumption that you know certain people. It is a matter of historical fact that spies and traitors commonly turn out to be the people we trust most."

"I agree, but I have to operate on that assumption due to the simple fact that I can't do everything myself. Check out everyone. I just hope you're wrong in this case."

This seemed acceptable to Malcolm. "So do I, sir. I'll get on it at once."

"Trip, I want you double check everyone in your department, as time permits. I'm still going to need you to prep the shuttles for an archaeological expedition."

"I'll do everything I can, sir." Trip looked at Malcolm in silent agreement.

"Hoshi, monitor all signals throughout the ship. Alert me immediately if there are any outgoing transmissions. I don't care if it's a letter to someone's parents or a mail order slip."

Hoshi nodded her confirmation as deliberately as always.

"Travis maintain course and speed. Phlox let Malcolm, T'Pol or me know of anything unusual that you might come across. T'Pol stick around. Everyone else, dismissed."

T'Pol hung back while everyone else filed out into the corridor. Archer waited until he was certain that they were alone before he spoke. "Malcolm doesn't hide his suspicion very well. The frightening part is that he's right. It could be any one of us."

T'Pol didn't break her gaze. Whatever Malcolm said, T'Pol was the one person on this ship that Archer always knew he could go to. "Captain, it could even be Malcolm or me. The fact is that without evidence, we don't even have a way to know if there is a spy."

"This could be some elaborate hoax. I know. The fact is-Trip, Hoshi, Malcolm, Phlox, and Travis-I don't suspect a single one of them. I can't."

T'Pol looked thoughtful. "You've obviously ruled me out. All I can do is tell you I remain loyal to you and this ship. I cannot offer evidence. No one can."

"That's not true. In the five years you've served on this ship, you've risked your career, your future, and even your life for the welfare of this crew. You've believed me and believed in me when no one else would. You've stood beside me when no one else would. That's all true, of all of them. You and everyone who was in this room have given me all the proof I need. You're my friends. That's why I'm having such a hard time accepting what Malcolm said."

"In time, this spy will reveal him or herself. We are the senior staff, everyone will know were we are when this spy strikes. The only possible problem I can foresee is if the spy uses a time-delayed method."

"Even then, there should be enough evidence to rule out a quarter of the crew, at the very least."

"Indeed."

"T'Pol, I want you to keep an eye out. I want you to—" "I promise, nothing that goes on inside or outside of this ship will escape my attention. Very little ever does."

"I know. That's why I wanted you on this."

"We should get to the bridge."

Archer smiled. "Ladies first."

T'Pol stepped into the corridor ahead of Archer. Archer stepped back to reality.


	2. Chapter 1

IT WAS THE NEW OFFICERS DAY in the mess hall. Ensign Leslie Braddock was telling Ensigns James Steven, Janice Ray, Alex Mulcahy, and Justin Aldin every detail of the previous night. She didn't leave out a single detail. She told them about the mysterious alien visitors from the vortex. She spoke of the Captain's brief disappearance, and upon his return, his shocking proclamation that he been there for hours.

"I wonder what these aliens told him about?" Alex was as curious as the rest. His chestnut blonde hair and startling green eyes were the main point of focus for most people. Leslie, petite with black hair and gray eyes, felt a bond with him. Not a romantic bond, but a strong bond nonetheless. It's not that she didn't like men. She simply considered Alex more akin to a brother.

Janice was as optimistic as ever. She was the very image of a Barbie doll with her blonde hair, blue eyes, tall yet narrow and well-formed frame, and finally that ditzy expression that annoyed the hell out of Leslie and masked Janice's true intelligence, which was that of a border-line genius. Janice was in Commander T'Pol's science department. "It's not like he's ever going to tell us, we the lowly ensigns who have been here for less than a year. Man, oh man, I wonder what it was like on that ship."

"It has to have been more interesting than anything we've seen." Alex's big complaint was that he had only been selected for two away missions since coming aboard Enterprise and both had been to uninhabited worlds. It was the science whiz, Janice that always got to go on the away missions.

"Maybe you should have studied anthropology instead of archaeology. I doubt that Captain Archer and Commander T'Pol are going to need a student of history anytime soon." Justin, with his brown hair, sapphire eyes, and his unusually tall and lanky frame, was a student of culture. He was an anthropologist down to the letter. Leslie happened to know that he was also a dedicated member of the Hoshi Sato fan club. The member list was now up to seventeen. He was the envy of his fellow members, all of whom were (not surprisingly) male. Yes, Justin the anthropologist got to work closely with Hoshi the linguist.

James was almost always quite in these little meetings. He never spoke unless he had something intelligent to say. He was a little older than everyone else in this group was and he was the only one who wore command colors. Everyone else at the table wore red, except Janice who wore blue. Clear Welsh ancestry, he had bright red hair and green eyes. He had broad shoulders and a powerful jaw. "Your field of study does hold bearing on your task, but not so much as your attitude. Starfleet wants officers who stand out. They want officers who don't wait to be chosen. Why don't you start asking, if you can join away missions."

"I suppose you're right. Man, I'd like to be on an away mission to one of those alien ships." Alex returned to his reverie.

"They had a liquid oxygen/lithium atmosphere. Sure, once you got all the air out of your lungs, you could breathe it, but with the lithium content, you would only last a few minutes." Leslie made sure Alex understood.

"We could always use EV suits," suggested Justin.

"Too heavy," countered Janice. "The liquid lithium would weigh us down."

"I'm not so sure we should be talking about this with other people, Ensign Braddock." Everyone stood at attention, face to face with Commander Tucker. He let out a light chuckle that Leslie noticed made Janice slightly swoon. "At ease," the Commander said in a reassuring voice. Leslie was now watching Janice very closely and noticed that she had turned beet red and was grinning ear to ear. Commander Tucker was carrying a saucer that carried what, from this angle, looked like pumpkin pie.

Leslie took the initiative. "Would you like to join us Commander?" She fixed a viscous stare on Janice, whose eyes were now wide. Leslie was certain the Commander would accept. There was no where else to sit.

"Well..." He gave it a little thought. "Don't mind if I do." Janice was now holding her breath.

Leslie continued, never taking her gaze from Janice. "We were just wondering what's been going on." Janice turned a light shade of green.

Commander Tucker sat. When he did Leslie could see that he, in fact, had a slice of pecan pie. "Well, we're not supposed to talk about it. There is going to be an away mission to a planet we've got on our sensors. We'll need you on this one, Mulcahy. It's uninhabited, but it should be interesting, all the same." Alex smiled widely. Janice slowly released her breath.

The Commander began to eat his pie. Leslie, still watching Janice, wanted to keep him talking. "Thank you for letting me work part time in engineering."

"No. Thank you for volunteering. I could always use an extra hand." He smiled his million-dollar smile. Janice let out a tiny squeak. Commander Tucker was now concerned. "Are you all right, Ensign?"

Janice looked startled to be directly addressed. "I'm fine, sir!" She sounded like a chipmunk. "Maybe you should go down to sickbay."

"Umm...no!" Her voice returned to normal. "It's just something I ate, sir. That's all."

Commander Tucker didn't look entirely convinced. He finished his last bit of pecan pie and got to his feet. He gave Janice one last concerned look and said, "I should be getting back." He turned to Leslie. "See ya in main engineering at 1300."

"I'll be there, sir." Leslie gave a short wave. The Commander took his plate to the bin marked "used", and waved goodbye to the table. As he walked through the double doors, Leslie said, "Janice, you are such a dork."

The table burst into laughter, and Janice buried her seemingly porcelain face in her hands. James looked up to the ceiling and snorted loudly. Leslie reached across the table to put a reassuring hand on Janice's shoulder. Alex reached for his root beer (no one had ever seen alcohol touch his lips) and took a sip. He looked up from his drink and then back to Leslie with a look of reprimand. "That was mean."

"What did I ever do to you?" Janice was indignant.

"What about last week when you glued all my PADDs to the bed frame?" Leslie gave her an accusing stare. Everyone's laughter redoubled. These games were all good and well, but something had been bugging Leslie for a while now. It was over at a table in the darkest corner of the mess hall. A young girl with shoulder length black hair, light reddish skin and an oval face sat in the darkness, alone. Leslie remembered her from back at the shipyards when all of Enterprise's crew replacements (Leslie, Alex, James, Janice and Justin among them) came aboard.

Leslie suddenly hopped out of her seat as though the Devil were after her, and trotted over to the lonely ensign, sitting down across from her. "Hi!" Leslie put on her most friendly face.

The young Amerindian girl looked up and smiled uncertainly. "Hi!"

Leslie looked at the ensign appraisingly. She seemed to come to a decision about something. "I'm Leslie, Leslie Braddock. What are you doing here all alone?"

"Oh, I just...that is...I always sit alone." She had a very gentle, yet powerful voice. It almost seemed as though she were singing. "My name's Melissa...Bluewolf."

Leslie extended her right hand. "Pleased to meet you." Melissa took Leslie's hand in her own and grasped it firmly. "Why don't you come sit with us?"

Melissa suddenly looked fearful. She hastily said, "I don't want to intrude!"

"Nonsense. The more the merrier. Besides, there is a more important reason to leave this table." Leslie had a dead serious expression on her face. "This table is caught in a rip in the fabric of space/time. It's in every restaurant, every mess hall and every cafeteria in the universe. It's in every dark corner everywhere, and there's always just one person sitting there. Just one. The people who never leave get caught in that rip. I know because I was there, and do you know what I came to realize after being there so long? It sucks to be there, and I'm willing to bet that you think it sucks to be there too. Come on and sit with us. My little gang and I might not be much of crowd, but at least we're together."

Melissa gave it some serious thought before saying, "I don't know. Everyone I try to associate with thinks I'm weird and then they just avoid me."

Leslie laughed. "Well, we're weird, too. Who isn't weird?"

Melissa smiled, grabbed her tray with one remaining slice of pizza, stood and went with Leslie.

Interlude

The bright starry sky shone high above Deneb IV. A long time ago, people lived here, but not anymore. All that was left of their once great empire were insignificant relics-museum pieces. The ghosts of this world wondered if anyone cared of the stories they had to tell. They had stories that would amaze and tantalize any who listened. As they looked into the crystal black sky, they saw a new shape form. It was a sleek and svelte form, a large saucer with two shiny cylinders burning in the night. A Starship! A Starship has come! The ghosts rejoiced and cheered for surely this pristine vessel was their salvation, not from loneliness and monotony, but from anonymity. They looked into sky and thought of this vessel-this magnificent vehicle-come to save them, to listen to their story, to care about their story, and to be awed by their story. That was all they wanted, and all that they needed. Isn't that what everyone needs?

Return to Reality The Enterprise entered orbit around the planet Deneb IV. There were no inhabitants of this minshara class planet. Great blue oceans covered it. Only two percent of the planet was covered by land. The single continent-one could scarcely call it that-held an intricate network of caves. The scans were inconclusive, but it certainly seemed that there was something in there. Any scientist or geologist would know that any city more than 2000 years old would be completely buried in mud or rock. The good news is that they didn't have to dig it up. They just had to find it.

"Take a look at this." Archer, Trip, and Hoshi were in the conference area of the bridge, giving T'Pol their full attention. An image appeared on the observation screen of, presumably, the interior of the caverns. They could all see unusual areas of heat where there should be none. "The majority of the planets land masses are underwater. The planet shows high levels of tectonic activity in these regions," she pointed to twelve different areas of the smaller map juxtaposed over the image of the caves, "however, there is none in this region." She pointed to the land-mass that carried the continent/island. "There should be no geothermal activity in this region. These heat signatures are being generated by something else."

"They're too big to belong to life forms," Hoshi began, "and they're not warm enough to belong to a group of life forms. We're probably looking at some kind of artificial generator."

"Commander, do you really think we're going to find the Ionian Empire down there?" Trip finally let his skepticism surface. "I mean, ever since the Vulcan's came to Earth, every school child's read about the Ionians. A race that lived millions of years ago, they left nothing behind, and not a single shred of evidence has been found."

"True," T'Pol agreed, "it is a part of our interstellar myths, and legends, however, if my own studies serve me, the city of Troy was believed to be a simple Grecian myth, until an archaeologist found it in the 1920's. Everything in life, Mr. Tucker, is risk. We may well humiliate ourselves, though in your case, you are not taking much of a risk in that respect." Trip rolled his eyes. No matter their relationship, there would be one constant: T'Pol would always make fun of him.

She continued, "or we may make history. The risk is not life threatening and is therefore acceptable."

Enterprise suddenly lurched to one side. The crew was flung to the port side of the bulkheads. After a moment, the ground became stable once again. Malcolm looked up from his station and beckoned Archer's, T'Pol's, and Trip's attention. "One of the power relays just exploded on D deck, section two."

"Sabotage?" Archer's face carried concern.

"No way to know until we get down there," Trip said. "Captain, those relays control the airlocks that open the launch bay."

"So we're not taking a shuttle pod any time soon. Let's get down to D deck. Malcolm, you have the bridge."

Archer, T'Pol and Trip started out of the turbo lift at a sprint. Upon their arrival in section two, Crewman Elizabeth Cutler, who had been Phlox's chief medic for nearly five years greeted them. Her shoulder length raven hair swayed as she ran. "One crewman was injured, Captain. She has second degree burns on her hands."

"Who is it?" Archer's first thought was always to the well being of his crew. The thought that this injured crewmember could possibly be a spy or traitor was banished from his mind by one single fact: Cutler said she was injured.

"Crewman Leslie Braddock."

Archer looked at Trip. "She's working for you part time. Did you order her down here?"

"Yes, sir," replied Trip. "One of interface's down here was acting up. With everything that's been going on, I didn't have enough time to take a look at it. Everyone was busy. She was free and offered to take a look."

The party approached the damaged section and met Doctor Phlox with the young Ensign Braddock. Janice Ray, Melissa Bluewolf and Alex Mulcahy were also there. Leslie held up her hands as though she were a surgeon at a sink basin, preparing to operate. They were caked with blood, and it appeared as though her fingernails had all become detached. Archer knew that she was in pain, but her face didn't reflect it. She looked more annoyed than anything else. She finally looked up at Archer and said, "I had just reached the interface. I hadn't even pulled off the cover when the damned thing exploded in my face!" She sounded irritated. Archer looked and saw a thin cut on her forehead.

"Phlox, is she going to be okay?" Archer didn't look away from Leslie.

Phlox gave his reassuring look and said, "She'll be fine. Her injuries weren't that serious. I'll need to keep her in sickbay over night, but..."

Archer may have been the concerned Captain, but T'Pol, as any Vulcan would, kept a level head. Her face looked kind. She got down on one knee to face the young ensign. "Do you realize that this is one of the power relays that control the launch bay airlocks?"

Leslie looked up in curiosity. "No, I didn't. Why?"

"We cannot depressurize to open our launch bay. Did you see anyone leave this section before you entered?" T'Pol remained as calm and collected as ever.

"No."

"When you first approached it, did the interface appear to have been tampered with in any way?"

"I don't recall. I don't think so."

T'Pol looked up at Phlox and nodded. She turned to Trip. As Phlox and Cutler helped the young girl up to go to sickbay, Janice, Melissa and Alex following behind, T'Pol asked, "What do you think, Commander?"

"Well, it'll take about a week to repair the damage." Trip looked as though the event were nothing short of tragic. The wall behind him was singed charcoal black. The interface was the demolished. The ship safety protocols had already killed power to the ruined power relay. The interface was receiving partial power and clearly showed a field of red across D deck. "Normally it wouldn't be a problem. In a few minutes the secondary systems would kick in and we'd be able to use our launch bay, but the explosion caused a cascade failure of power relays across the deck. It'll be about two days before I can at least bypass them."

"Two days without shuttle pods." Archer looked from T'Pol to Trip, then back to T'Pol. "We could always use the transporter."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said that the transporter would only be used in case of emergency."

"Doesn't this qualify as one? We can't just sit here on our hands for two days and do nothing."

Trip raised his eyebrows. "I can get started on those bypasses. The transporter can handle up to five at a time. Send 'em down in groups. It'd be a hell of a lot quicker than the shuttle pods."

A confident grin formed on Archer's face. "We'll catch this saboteur soon enough. In the meantime, we've got a city waiting for us."

* * *

The transporter room was lined wall to wall with scanning equipment, climbing and survival gear, food, water, camping equipment, medical supplies, and sample containers. It could hardly be called a room. The right side opened into a main corridor. It was more like an alcove. The mission would start with a team of five. These five would beam into the cave, in an area that the sensors had designated relatively stable. There were no materials in the cave face generating radiogenic or radioactive particles, so no problems were expected during transport. The beam down site was two hundred yards from the mysterious heat readings. Once the leader of the initial landing had determined the nature of the energy readings, Captain Archer would decide what happens next. If it were a city, the mission would be continued in two teams of twenty, operating on rotating shifts between the ruins and duty on Enterprise.

The leader of the initial landing was declared to be, due to his survival and climbing skills, Travis Mayweather. His job was to set up a base camp, determine the location and nature of the strange power readings, and await further orders. He was in the transporter room now with his team: Janice Ray, James Steven, Lisa Cutler, and Michael Ballard. Travis looked ecstatic. While he and Lisa took an inventory of all the materials, Ballard and Steven were loading them onto the transporter pad. Ray was operating. As Mayweather and Cutler indicated which lots were ready to go, more and more equipment was dissolving in a blue shimmer of light. Just as the muscular auburn headed Ballard, loaded the last lot of medical supplies T'Pol came into the transporter room.

"Mr. Mayweather, report." T'Pol's eyes fixed on the young helmsman, once heir to a cargo ship.

Mayweather was grateful that, in the three hours that he and his team had been working, this was only the second time the Commander asked for a progress report. Mayweather looked around at the now empty transporter room, to his team all of whom were dressed in their white survival uniforms, and back at T'Pol. "All we need is the go ahead. We're ready."

"Let me see your inventory pad." Mayweather handed it her. T'Pol looked over thoroughly to make sure they had forgotten nothing then handed it back to Mayweather. "Excellent. You're ahead of schedule." T'Pol walked over to the transporter control and motioned all five ensigns to step onto the pad. They did, and as they did, T'Pol activated the intercom. "T'Pol to Captain Archer. The team is prepared for transport."

Archer's voice came over the intercom. "Great! They're early. You've got the go ahead. Send them down."

T'Pol nodded toward the five ensigns. Travis suddenly felt a peculiar sensation. First a tingling followed by a sudden loss of gravity. Gravity increased again and the tingling returned. T'Pol and the transporter room vanished before his eyes and were replaced by a brilliant phosphorescent limestone. Travis Mayweather, Enterprise's chief helmsman for five years, had never seen anything like this. It defied everything he knew about caves. He almost wouldn't call this a cave. He heard gasps of awe and astonishment all around him. He came back to his senses long enough to do quick survey of the chamber. Everyone and everything was where they were supposed to be. He took a more deliberate look at the cave. He had a sudden notion. What if something had gone wrong with the transport? What if they were dead, and this was Heaven?

The chirping of his communicator brought him back to reality. He pulled it from his belt and opened the antennae hood. The communicator chirped to life. He put it to his mouth uncertainly, half expecting to hear Captain Archer or Commander T'Pol and half expecting to hear the voice of God, for if He were anywhere it was most likely here. He opened his mouth and spoke. "Mayweather here." "This is Commander T'Pol. Status?"

Mayweather breathed a sigh of relief. "Commander, we're here. We're all fine. I ...Commander, you have to see this place to believe it!"

"Explain."

"It doesn't look like any cave I've ever seen. There are no stalactites on the ceiling, or stalagmites on the floor. The walls are uniform. It's more like a tunnel than a cave. At the end, ahead of me, there are two staircases."

"Staircases?"

"One is going up. The other down." He pulled out his scanner and activated it. "Commander, I've just turned on my scanner. There is no disruption down here. I'm looking at this. We're not even going to need the climbing gear. The Captain was right. It's a city. It's as clear as day on my scanner. It's a city. No life form readings other than the five of us...not even bacteria."

"Fascinating!"

"Travis," said Captain Archer. "The base camp can wait. I want you to keep an open comm link. Go down to this city, if possible, and tell me what you see."

"Understood, sir." Mayweather replaced his communicator in his belt, careful to leave the hood open. "Michael, Janice: Stay here. Lisa and James, come with me."

The three of them began on their trek to this lost city. Going down the staircase, they could see clearly. Glowing writing shone on the walls. "There are hand rails, Captain."

Cutler stayed close behind. As they stepped down onto the final step, they entered a bare corridor. Everything here was so large. The ceilings were vaulted, and the walls were far apart. At the end of the corridor, they stepped out onto a terrace overlooking the lost city. Cutler couldn't maintain her silence. "If fairy tales were true, this is what they'd look like."

Mayweather pulled his communicator back out and spoke into it. "Captain, you have got to see this. It's not buried. Dust hasn't even collected. It looks like the people who were here only left a few minutes ago. The city is in that good of condition."

James spoke. "Most of the buildings we're seeing are structurally sound and are in excellent condition. It's impossible to determine age."

"So this city looks relatively new," said Archer.

"Relatively?" Mayweather sounded surprised. "Captain, it looks like this city was just built yesterday." Mayweather looked down the terrace and saw steps leading down. "Captain, we're going in."

The three continued downward. Mayweather took another look at the city. "There are shades of every color in the spectrum. All of the buildings look crystalline, and yet all of them look normal. There are distinct separations between the buildings and yet the city looks like one massive structure." Mayweather could not find a single word to describe their appearance. "Streets crisscross the city in every direction and there are streets that are suspended between buildings on bridges. I can see nothing to possibly support these bridges."

They stepped off of the steps and into an outer street. Mayweather took a look around and spoke into his communicator. "Captain, we seem to be on an outer street overlooking what looks like a park. There is an object that is clearly a piece of china on the ground. It's a cup. It's made of crystal, I think. It's in perfect condition. Here's the moment of truth. I'm going to quantum date it." Travis picked up the cup. That's exactly what it was, for whatever reasons, just lying out in the street. He held his scanner having already set the controls. Mayweather began to laugh. He sounded as though he were expecting to wake up from a dream. In truth, he was expecting to wake up any moment now.

"Travis? What's wrong?" Captain Archer's voice was laced with concern.

When his giggle fit finally ended, he said, "I must be dreaming! Captain, according my scanner, this cup is over 3,000,000 years old! Nothing has decayed! Nothing has rotted! Nothing has collapsed or stopped working! Captain, this city is literally frozen in time!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commander Reginald Hillard "Braddock is an exceptionally bright young officer. She has confidence and high self-esteem. She is extremely compassionate to others and always volunteers her time. She gladly accepts any task, no matter how menial. Her weakness is her eagerness and impatience."

Captain's Starlog: Date—July 19th 2156

It would truly seem that we have discovered the mythical Ionian Empire. I remember reading all of the myths that the Vulcans brought to Earth, and this was the most amazing of them. A civilization that lived millions of years ago that became so far advanced that many believe that they evolved to a higher plane of existence—beyond the organic. That would explain how a three-million-year-old city appears to be in perfect condition. A race that evolved—who knows what they were capable of. I've sent a signal to Admiral Forrest but I haven't gotten a response. It would seem there's a problem with our transceiver coil. It doesn't look like an act of sabotage, but Trip hasn't ruled it out. Meanwhile, I've decided join the survey team down in the ruins, if you can call them ruins. Porthos should enjoy the fresh air. I can't see a reason not to take him along.

"What's your progress?" T'Pol had just arrived at Hoshi's side. They stood outside a magnificently ornate building. On either side of the entrance were statues of what appeared to be angels, the faces distinctly Human in appearance.

Hoshi opened her arms as if to snatch the entire structure. "I've come to the conclusion that this was a public library. Everything inside was listed on computer database. The files were so badly corrupted that I was only able to save a few of them. Apparently not everything here is immune to age. The language is extremely complex, but I was able to decipher it after only an hour of study. The language, both in writing and speech—I was able to save a few audio files—flows incredibly smoothly. I always believed there was no perfect language. I've changed my mind."

Hoshi suddenly felt a gentle scratching at her leg. In alarm, she looked down into a very friendly face. "Porthos!" Hoshi looked around for the man not holding the leash. She saw him immediately, reached down and picked Porthos up and headed right to him, with T'Pol in tow. "Captain, this place is fantastic."

"I can see that." Archer looked from T'Pol to Hoshi and Porthos, then over to the ten some-odd crewmen scurrying in and out of various buildings. Porthos began to lick Hoshi's face, who reared her head back to avoid the wetness and finally put him down. Porthos ran off towards one of the statues, decided it was of little interest and went off exploring, always looking to ensure Archer was nearby. "Any idea how this city survived in this condition?"

T'Pol watched the animal for a moment in what seemed like amusement (was that an emotion? Archer didn't think it qualified.). She then turned and said, "We located several active generators, which may be responsible for the city's condition. How they work is beyond my ability to explain. This city defies every science I know. As for the city itself: the only thing really remarkable about it is the architecture and technology. Other than that, it is like any other city. We are standing in front of what is decidedly a library. It has no books or shelves, but it does a have an extensive database, the majority of which has been corrupted by time. Yes, this city is not invulnerable to time in all respects. Down there," she pointed south, "is what appears to be a market place. It has buildings with counters, display cabinets and merchandise. Over there," she pointed in a direction behind Archer, "Is clearly a government building; a city hall, if you will. It has individual offices, a lecture auditorium, a lobby, and on the other side of that building is a school, with regular classrooms, as you would know them. On the northernmost part of the city is what appears to be a palace."

Hoshi held out a PADD to Captain Archer, who accepted it. "What's this?"

Hoshi smiled. "It's what the UT was able to translate, once I figured out the language. It's mostly literature, some poetry, but some of it is the fragments of a city record. Apparently, this city is called Vinarra."

T'Pol raised her eyebrows. "In some of the more obscure versions of the myth, the capital of the Ionian Empire was Vinarra City."

"I can certainly believe this was an Ionian city." Archer looked around him in wonder. "I remember reading that there were a lot of people who believed that the Ionians didn't go extinct, but evolved into a higher form of life. Do think they could still be here?"

T'Pol considered for a moment and then seemed to concede. "Considering the level of technological advancement they appear to have achieved, one must consider that they may also have evolved to the point that one cannot dismiss the possibility. Consider all of the buildings we have identified, and all the local facilities. I find it odd that we have not located a single cemetery or hospital. We have not even found anything that could be identified as a clinic. There are no crematoriums. They seem to have had no medical technology, or even a means of disposing of their dead. This indicates that if the Ionians were evolving along the lines myth suggests, then this evolution was already an ongoing process at the time this city was constructed and as a result, they had no dead to dispose of or sick and injured to treat. It may also be entirely possible that if these beings did evolve to such a level, then while they were still in material form, they may also have had medical technology or capabilities so far beyond our own that we would have no means of even identifying it."

"They still needed dwellings." Archer was looking southwest toward what was clearly a housing district.

"Yes, and in these dwellings, we have found beds, and other ordinary furnishings, which does clearly suggest that they still needed sleep. We have found china, which indicates that they still needed to consume food and drink. Hoshi has found and has been reading books in these dwellings."

Hoshi cleared her throat. "The odd thing is, I can't find a single reference to any species. They don't even mention their own name in any piece of writing that I find. The only things I haven't read are those city records. They name cities and planets. They name people and animals, but they never name a society."

"So these people may not be the Ionians." Archer wasn't asking. "Captain, we have no way knowing who these people are. They don't name themselves."

"There may be something in the palace, has anyone been there yet?"

"No." T'Pol and Hoshi replied in unison.

"I'll go over these records. Hoshi, take two people with you and take a look through that palace."

"Yes, sir." Just as Hoshi responded, a loud explosion pierced the air. Archer, T'Pol and Hoshi each turned in the direction that the sound came from.

A Crewman Mulcahy came running up. His hair was singed and he was out of breath. "Lisa Cutler got caught in an explosion."

Mulcahy ran back the way he came with Archer, T'Pol and Hoshi close behind. Archer pulled out his communicator. "Archer to Enterprise. I need Phlox down here!"

Mulcahy stopped at the entrance to a small building. Archer, T'Pol and Hoshi stopped too. He felt something small and heavy crash into the back of his leg. He looked down and saw Porthos. All four went inside. This was clearly a store. There were counters and tables exhibiting merchandise. There was no sign of any kind of money till or register. Debris from the scanner littered the floor. The ancient alien interface was blistered along the right side. Ensign Braddock was kneeling beside Cutler. Her hands had a Derma-Plaste coating on them, most likely for the burns from the incident on the ship, that gave them a glossy quality. She looked up at the new arrivals. "She's alive. She almost lost her arm though." As they all moved forward to help, Doctor Phlox materialized nearby. He saw Cutler and immediately ran to her.

Before Phlox could say anything, Archer asked, "What happened."

"She was scanning one of the interfaces when the power cell in her scanner overloaded. The interface arced and exploded too."

Phlox breathed a sigh of relief. Cutler had been Phlox's friend ever since Enterprise disembarked. "She'll live, but her arm will be severely scarred above the elbow." At that moment, Crewman's Aldin, Bluewolf, Steven, Ray, Hickman and Rivera ran in.

Ensign Hickman, a woman with a somewhat husky build, asked, "What happened?"

It was Mulcahy who answered. "The power cell in Lisa's scanner overloaded."

Porthos worked his way around the feet of the growing crowd and scuttled over to where Cutler lay. He nudged her with his cold, wet nose, and she immediately stirred. "Try not to move," said Phlox. "You've had a rather nasty shock to your system." Cutler placed her uninjured hand on Porthos' head and scratched him behind the ear.

Ensign Steven moved forward from the crowd. Ray, Bluewolf and Aldin followed. It made sense to T'Pol and Archer. It had not escaped their attention that Braddock, Ray, Mulcahy, Aldin, and Steven were rarely seen outside of each other's company, and they were also aware of the act of kindness that resulted in Bluewolf's inclusion into the group. James Steven's hands had the same glossy quality as the hands of Leslie Braddock. Steven was about to say something when T'Pol began to speak. "Ensign Braddock, you and Mulcahy were both here at the time of the explosion?"

Both nodded.

"Did either of see anyone handle Crewman Cutler's scanner prior to her?"

Mulcahy nodded "no". Braddock answered, "No."

T'Pol inclined her head toward Cutler "Lisa? Where did you get the scanner?"

Lisa cleared her throat. "Out of supply chest three."

T'Pol looked to observe everyone. "Did any of you see anyone besides Lisa Cutler return scanning equipment to that supply chest before she gathered her materials?"

Everyone shook his or her head "no".

"Did any of you handle Lisa Cutler's scanner at any time?"

Everyone now looked confused and each cautiously shook his or her head "no".

T'Pol knew that most of the people here expected the Captain to ask these questions, but T'Pol was the executive commanding officer. Interrogation was her job. If there was anything that Captain Archer felt she had not properly covered or if there were anything that he did not understand, he would ask. T'Pol turned to face Archer. He was eyeing Ensign Braddock rather closely. He looked over to T'Pol and nodded a confirmation. T'Pol turned to her and said, "Ensign Braddock, the Captain and I would like to have a word with you. Alone."

* * *

"You think it's me?" Ensign Braddock was pacing back and forth in the lobby to the Ionian library. T'Pol and Archer had told her about their suspicions of a spy and saboteur being among them, and now Braddock looked as though she were about to have a nervous breakdown.

"No, we don't," Archer assured her, "but we have no choice but to be suspicious. We've had two acts of sabotage in two days, and you're the only one who was present for both of them. That's not evidence of anything, but it's not good for your image, either."

Braddock sat down on a stool. She took in her surroundings. In spite of the situation she now found herself in, she was still able to stare in wonder at the crystalline columns ending in an illuminated domed top. Porthos was in one corner sitting patiently. She looked up at Archer and T'Pol, fighting back tears. "I know words don't mean much, but I haven't done anything wrong." Her voice cracked. It was clear that she had never been in trouble of any kind before. Now she was in trouble of its most serious form.

T'Pol and Archer were not unsympathetic. Both knew how they would feel if, having worked hard and loyally for their people, they had been accused of espionage and treason. T'Pol remembered how she felt when the Vulcan High Command wrongly accused her of incompetence concerning the incident at P'Jem. Archer remembered being accused of neglect, with good reason, but still wrongful, after a Suliban's act of sabotage destroyed an entire planet along with all 16,000 colonists. T'Pol took a step over to Braddock, grabbed a nearby stool, sat, and scooted over to the hysterical Ensign. "Are you certain you didn't see anyone in the corridor?" T'Pol's voice was soothing.

Braddock looked up at the Commander. Tear's streaming down her face and her jaw was quivering. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm certain. I didn't see anyone." She looked up at Archer, and spoke again, her voice somewhat stronger and selfâ€”assured. "And I'm not about accuse anyone just to take the spot off of me."

"No one's asking you to do that." Captain Archer looked at her sternly. "And I'm glad to know that you wouldn't do that." Her voice started to quiver again. "I mean, I've worked hard to get where I am."

"I know you have."

"All I can do is keep going, hopefully to get where you are someday. Why would I...Why would anyone just through that all away? I was hurt. I was caught in the explosion...yesterday. Why would I..." her voice choked. She tried again. "Why would I let...Why would let myself be injured? I could have lost my hands. I could have been killed. Why would I take that chance?"

T'Pol sighed, stood up, and turned to Captain Archer. "In all honesty, our suspicions are well-founded, but there is no physical evidence against her, nor do we have sufficient reason to keep her from her duties."

Archer turned towards Braddock. "You understand that we will have to keep an eye on you. Ships internal sensors will monitor your movements, while guards will accompany you to any unoccupied section. For the time being, you'll be taken off of engineering duty at least until we are able to disregard you as a suspect."

T'Pol placed a hand on Braddock's shoulder. "There will be a security detail posted outside your quarters. While you are on duty, they will follow your movements, however they will remain inconspicuous in order to avoid attracting attention to you and our dilemma. I know you are going to disregard this order where your four friends are concerned, but I will issue it anyway. Say what you will, but do not discuss with anyone the true reason for this meeting."

Braddock stood up. She had calmed down a great deal. "Yes, ma'am."

T'Pol winced slightly but said nothing. She did not like being addressed as "ma'am". "You and I should return to the ship. We cannot allow you to continue your duties down here for reasons which should be obvious."

"It'll be harder to keep an eye on me down here."

"Correct."

T'Pol turned to the Captain. "Will you be joining us?"

Archer went over and picked up Porthos. "No. I'm going to have a look around. Keep me posted on any developments."

"Aye, Captain." T'Pol removed her communicator from her belt. She opened the hood and spoke into it. "T'Pol to Enterprise. Two to beam up."

Archer watched T'Pol and Braddock dissolve in a shower of blue light. He then turned and walked, Porthos on his shoulder, out into the city.

* * *

"I was takin' a look at some of those relays when I noticed something." In main engineering, Trip ushered T'Pol over to a computer terminal that displayed a series of relays—obviously a representation of the relays on D deck—a row of calculations, and a chart of elements. "Found something odd in those terminals. I found the same thing in that scanner you had me check out. It's phosphoric acid. It's really corrosive stuff. It'd take it 'bout two, maybe three hours to burn through one of those relays. It would take fifteen to thirty minutes for that scanners power cell, but it will do it, and since it's flammable, things really heat up when it finds its way into these systems."

"Then, this was the method of sabotage." T'Pol stared intently at the screen.

"Without a doubt. When no one was looking, someone pulled that interface open and doused it real good with this stuff, and did the same thing to the scanners power charge."

"Yesterday's incident occurred at precisely 1332 hours and fourteen point nine one eight two seconds, which means that whoever is responsible had to act between 1032 and 1132 hours. Ensign Braddock's whereabouts are unaccounted for that entire hour. So are the whereabouts of thirty-seven other crewmen. Fourteen of which had ample opportunity during both incidents." T'Pol's Vulcan logic was hard at work. It helped that as a Vulcan she repressed her emotions. Many argue that Vulcans still feel emotions and T'Pol was inclined to agree; however the lack of emotions greatly helped when a problem of logic presented itself.

Trip, on the other hand..."I can't believe Ensign Braddock could do anything like this. I won't believe it. She's a little screwed up in the head, but she's a good kid."

"I am having difficulty with the concept also, however where the evidence points towards guilt, guilt must be assigned. We have no real evidence against her yet, however. She may yet prove innocent."

"I'm certain she will."

T'Pol turned away from the screen. "Phosphoric acid is difficult to acquire on a starship. It's basic chemical, however is, naturally, phosphorous which is utilized in many areas of the ship. It can be used to make phosphoric acid. If this is the case here, it implies that our saboteur has some knowledge of chemistry. It is used in the imaging processor of the main bio-scanner in sickbay. It is toxic in all of its forms. Dr. Phlox usually keeps hazardous substances secured, but I cannot think of how else it might have been acquired. May I help you, Ensign?"

James Steven was watching them from his station to the starboard side of the main reactor core. The device, which easily dominated the biâ€”level engineering, did not sufficiently hide the ensign. He looked surprised to have been addressed. "No, ma'am."

T'Pol nodded and returned her attention to Trip. "Glow-sticks," he said. "They're used in case of emergency, usually on away missions. They were invented back in the twentieth century. You pull one out, snap it, shake it up and you've got light. You usually see trick-orâ€”treaters with them on Halloween."

"'Trick-or-treaters?'" T'Pol displayed her familiar look of confusion.

"You know. Once a year little kids dress in costumes and go door to...forget it. The point is that anyone can get glow-sticks. They're included with the survival gear, and their primary element is phosphorous."

"I shall have to check our stock on all materials that use phosphorous. Have you been to the planet yet?"

"Nope. I haven't had time. I've got to get those relays bypassed on D deck. Maybe if I get some free time rustled up. I hear it's an eye opener."

"It's marvelous. You should see it. It is worth it from every scientific aspect. Even it's aesthetic beauty alone is worth the journey, but you don't want to use the transporter."

"Ah, after what happened to Hoshi..."

"Hoshi swore that she would never use the transporter after her experience three years ago, however she has been using it and she has been enjoying herself in the city. What happened to Hoshi wasn't even physical; it was a simple hallucination induced by a polaric energy discharge. When this ship first disembarked, everyone on board was terrified of the prospect of using this new and unfamiliar piece of technology. Admittedly, even I was somewhat uneasy about it. Five years have passed and it has been used many times and that use has not resulted in a single casualty, with the exception of one unusual incident in which the matter stream was unable filter out radioactive particles causing some injury to one ensign. There is a twentieth century Human expression, Commander: 'get with the times'.

"The Human invention of matter/energy conversion technology is an example of absolute brilliance. Humans had no assistance from the Vulcans in the development of this technology. Barring the fact that the technology is still primitive and unsophisticated by Vulcan standards, we have yet to develop matter/energy conversion technology on the level your species has. You should be proud of that achievement. Furthermore, the transporter is a proven effective and reasonably safe method of transportation."

"'Reasonably safe?'"

"It is certainly safer than hurtling yourself through space at impossible velocities in a steel canister propelled by what is essentially an enormous matter/anti-matter bomb."

Trip chuckled. When she put it that way...T'Pol was right. He knew it, and even he had used the transporter before, but he still felt so uneasy. "We'll see."

"Keep me updated, Commander." With that, T'Pol turned and ducked through the port hatch.

In the corridor, she met Lieutenant Reed. "I've been looking for you everywhere. Still, no word on when the long-range transceiver will be up and running."

"Why didn't you signal me on the intercom?"

"I tried for an hour. I beeped your communicator. I tried the intercom. I finally gave up and went looking for you half an hour ago."

T'Pol's eyebrows scrunched together. She had placed the communicator on the supply tray upon returning to the ship. She had called for beam up and Enterprise responded. "Are you certain that you called me on my communicator? I used it to signal a beam up twenty minutes ago. It was working fine then."

"It must have a bad receiver. Anyway, about the ship transceiver: Trip's engineering team can't seem to find out what's wrong with the bloody thing."

"Have them scan for phosphoric acid. I believe that is our saboteurs favorite implement."

"So you've been making progress in the investigation. I've had my security teams patrolling the corridors twenty-four/seven, but they can't be everywhere at once. Speaking of which, Hoshi says that you suspect Ensign Braddock."

"I certainly hope that it isn't her, however the little evidence that we do have suggests that it is."

They both started to walk in the direction of the turbo-lift that led to the bridge. "Ah, it'll be a shame if it is. She's a good kid."

T'Pol turned her head sideways. "That is what Mr. Tucker said."

"Hmm. You know, I was thinking about going down to the city after my shift, but then I decided it wasn't such a good idea with all that's been going on."

"I attempted to convince Mr. Tucker to go, however—"

"Let me guess." Reed screwed up his jaw and changed his British accent to a rustic southern accent and in a perfect imitation of Commander Tucker, said, "'maybe if I can get some free time rustled up'."

"I believe that if Commander Tucker learned of your penchant for imitating him, he would be very displeased."

"Oh, he's heard me a couple of times, but he hasn't said anything about it. You know what they say, Commander: 'imitation is the greatest form of flattery'."

They came to a halt outside of turbo-lift one. T'Pol pushed the call button. The doors opened and both stepped inside where Reed pushed the button labeled 'deck A'. The lift whined into motion.

"Are you going back down to the city later?" Reed was understandably curious about the planet.

T'Pol looked at him in surprise. "Oh yes, there is still a great deal that we can learn. I suspect that we have barely begun to scratch the surface, but for now, I need to run an inventory check on all phosphorous materials used on this ship."

The lift deposited them on the main bridge. Both stepped on and Reed said, "I'll leave you to it then. I'll keep you informed on any new developments."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." T'Pol walked to the rear of the main bridge and sat at her science station. She activated the monitor and began to type.

Computer: begin search Search inventory

T'Pol considered what Trip had said.

Computer: begin search Search inventory <glow-stick> ..................search in progress.......................... ..................unable to comply ..................item specified does not appear in inventory ..................check to verify spelling or name

T'Pol turned and looked over to the comm station where Ensign Gregson was seated. "Ensign, what would glow-sticks be listed as in ship inventory?"

The young dusty headed ensign looked thoughtful and then said, "Try 'phosphorescent signal beacon'."

"'Phosphorescent signal beacon'?"

"Yeah, we usually just call 'em glow-sticks but the ship computer doesn't know nicknames."

"Thank you." T'Pol turned back to her terminal.

Computer: new search Search inventory <phosphorescent signal beacon> ..................search in progress..........................................inquiry accepted ..................displaying results

Phosphorescent Signal Beacon Stock 231 Supply locker F-J Supply room 3-12 Initial stock 350 Stock used 119 Stock used for mission 93 Stock used for misc. reason 26 Unaccounted for 0

Computer: list misc. reason Aeroponics experimentation

T'Pol's eyes narrowed.

Computer: list crew roster for aeroponics bay for previous month..... Ensign Braddock, Leslie R. Ensign Cutler, Elizabeth S. Ensign Devereaux, Jacob Ensign Devareux, Louis M. Ensign Larimore, Sean W. Ensign Mulcahy, Alex Ensign Petrovski, Susan L. Ensign Preston, Susan W. Ensign Steven, James W. Ensign Stucman, Mikhail

Cutler and Preston were the only ones whose whereabouts were known at the time. Eight potential suspects were listed on the monitor, which brought the list down from the initial thirty-seven. Now she would have to question each of them, particularly Ensign Cutler as she was in charge of aeroponics.

T'Pol decided to view the profiles. She started from the top down with Ensign Braddock. The profile included a glamorous photo of the Ensign in full uniform.

Name: Braddock, Leslie Rank: Ensign Gender: Female Birthplace: Belfontaine Neighbors, Missouri Date of birth: February 12, 2133 Species: Human Race: Caucasian Height: 5'6" Weight: 125 Hair: Black Eyes: Blue/Gray

Next of kin: Mother (maiden name): Lambert, Brigitte Father: Braddock, Matthew Residence: 6238 Zephram Cochrane Dr. St. Louis, Missouri 62110

Siblings: (Brother) Braddock II, Matthew Residence: N/A (Currently serving on Intrepid)

Graduated the Academy in class of '54 Major: Engineering Minor: Strategic Command GPA: 4.0

Aptitudes: Astronomy, Piloting, Engineering, Mathematics, Physics, Music, Art

Hobbies: Painting, Guitar, Baseball

Previous Assignment: San Francisco Shipyards. Inventory

Notes: Commander Reginald Hillard â€”"Braddock is an exceptionally bright young officer. She has confidence and high self-esteem. She is extremely compassionate to others and always volunteers her time. She gladly accepts any task, no matter how menial. Her weakness is her eagerness and impatience."

Commander Hillard seemed to have very little bad to say about Ensign Braddock. T'Pol also had developed a great liking for her, however she had to be objective. No one could truly know another person or what that person was capable of, and although it was not listed in her aptitudes, there was nothing in Braddock's file to suggest she did not have experience with chemistry.

T'Pol continued through the list, finding nothing to rule any of these crewmen out. The only thing that T'Pol had to go on was that Braddock had been present. She finally reached Ensign Steven's file. T'Pol found he was an orphan, that his parents were unknown and that he had been born in Lake Havasue, Arizona. T'Pol did note that he did have an aptitude in chemistry, as did Stucman and Petrovski. There was only one thing for it. T'Pol would have to question all eight of them.

Before T'Pol was able to log off, a report from Commander Tucker came through. Phosphoric acid was indeed found on the contacts for the transceiver coils.


	4. Chapter 4

BREAKFAST IN THE MESS HALL and Leslie Braddock and Melissa Bluewolf were the first two at their traditional table in the mess hall. They were talking animatedly with each other when Janice Ray and Alex Mulcahy came walking in. From the look on Leslie's frantic face, it didn't appear as though she was enjoying her conversation. Janice and Alex sat in the seats across from them and asked what was going on. Leslie started her story over again. Justin Aldin came three minutes later and took the seat between Melissa and Ray. Leslie told her story once again.

"If Commander T'Pol told you not tell anyone thenâ€”" Justin was cut off by Leslie.

"I had to tell someone. I couldn't take it anymore." Leslie passed both hands over her face and through her hair. "The Commander came to me again about an hour ago and asked me about my personal record, about the two days that I helped Lisa in the aeroponics bay, and all kinds of stuff. You remember, don't you Alex? We were helping her take stuff up to re-supply Chef's pantry." Alex nodded. "What the hell would I do with glow-sticks anyway."

Alex had remembered helping Leslie and Lisa. He also remembered that he had been significantly slower than they had. He wore out easily. "The Commander just grilled me about it too. Apparently, I'm a suspect now."

"Look, none of you think that I'd do anything like this, right?"

Janice snorted loudly. "No way. Don't worry about the Vulcan. She's just following the points on her logical ears. Once she has more evidence you won't have anything to worry about, because it'll point to someone else. She's a Vulcan. It's nothing personal on her part. She's just doing the Vulcan thing."

Melissa squeezed Leslie's shoulder tightly. "If you were out to blow up the ship, I don't think you would have dragged me over to this table."

Justin closed his eyes and looked up with a heavenly expression. "Amen to that."

Alex fixed a stare on Leslie and said, "If you're the saboteur of a starship, then I'm the Queen of Spain."

Everyone was behind her. At least, she was sure that James would be with her also. He was quite conspicuous in his absence. No matter what happened now, she no longer felt like she were the center of an investigation into sabotage. She felt as though she were the Master of the Universe. With her friends behind her, she felt she could do anything and that nothing could ever touch her. It made her feel even better that Melissa Bluewolf, a girl that she had only met a few days ago, so quickly came to trust her as to stand behind her. An insane and spontaneous thought came to her. "What if we found the saboteur?"

Janice looked up in disbelief and said, "What?"

Melissa looked thoughtful. "I have always believed in retribution, but we must take care that retribution does not become revenge. I'm for it."

Janice looked between both of them and said in a conversational manner, "I mean this as your loving friend, but you are both absolutely nuts. Captain Archer will skin you both alive."

"I don't think he would go to that extreme." Though Melissa usually had no hint of an Amerindian accent of any tribe, she quickly developed a distinct one at the moment.

Janice wasn't about to let her friends go through with this. "I meant that figuratively. You can't just go off half-cocked."

Alex and Justin were keeping silent. Whenever anyone talked about taking risks like this, it was usually in jest. Leslie gave her beloved friend a dead serious look. "I'm fully cocked. I can't just let whoever this clown is steer Commander T'Pol into me. It's not like I'm going to go chasing this guy down the corridor with a phase pistol. I'm just going to do my own detective work."

"If you go off on some crusade, running down the hall with a phase pistol is exactly what you could wind up doing. You could get yourself killed. Do you want that? Do think I want that? Do think any of us wants that?"

Melissa spoke again. "None of us wants that, but at least she would be doing something about her situation. She wouldn't be waiting here patiently for other people to judge her for whom she isn't. She would instead be made accountable for whom she is."

Janice never took her gaze off of Leslie. "Well I can't say I don't understand that, at least. I can see that there's no changing your mind. I have your back. I don't doubt that I will seriously regret it, but I have your back."

Alex, who was so quite that he might have been a statue, said, "This has to be the craziest and stupidest thing that you have ever done, Les. I'm with you just to see how it turns out."

Justin sighed. "You all know that I could never be the odd one out. So here it is. I'm in."

Janice had been thinking hard. "You know, I heard Commanders Tucker and T'Pol talking in main engineering. I was on the upper level on the catwalks above them helping Lieutenant Roper with a fuel equation. It seems that our saboteur has a liking for phosphoric acid."

Alex's eyes widened. "Oh, so that's what the glow-sticks are all about."

Melissa seemed to flinch. "What?"

Janice elaborated. "What makes glow-sticks glow in the dark? Phosphorous does. What is phosphoric acid made from? Phosphorous."

"Oh, so someone's been taking glow-sticks, cracking them open and making acid out of them?"

"Yep."

"How do you make it?"

"Not much of a science whiz, are you? That's okay. I don't know how to make it either. I was never good at chemistry but I do have a basic understanding. Phosphoric acid is highly corrosive to organic matter, but not as highly so with inorganic materials such as metal. Commander Tucker said that this form of the substance was so corrosive that it burnt through the metal in about two to three hours. This suggests a highly concentrated formula."

"You know, it's not polite to eavesdrop." All five of them were startled to hear Commander Tucker's voice.

Janice's heart skipped a beat. "Sorry, sir. I was the one who overheard."

"It's all right. My voice was carrying a little bit in the engine room yesterday."

Leslie noted that Janice wasn't acting like a twelve-year-old groupie in Trip Tucker's presence this time. Janice stood and faced the Commander. "I suppose we shouldn't be talking about this, sir."

"You're right. You shouldn't. Now don't you lot go and do something stupid. Let Lieutenant Reed and Commander T'Pol deal with it. That's their job, and I thought we got this clear when you came aboard: at ease, I'm not comfortable with people salutin' me all the time."

Janice sat back down. "Sorry, sir."

"Don't be. There's nothing wrong with wanting to help, but I found out the hard way that when you give help where help isn't needed, you usually just wind up makin' things worse. 'Too many cooks spoil the broth'." The Commander appeared to have a revelation. "I almost forgot; I was looking for Ensign Steven. Anyone seen him?"

Leslie looked as though she were trying to solve the equation to break the warp nine barrier. "No. Come to think of it, I haven't seen him since lunch yesterday."

Everyone else shook his or her head. Commander Tucker made a quick rap on the table. "He didn't check in with me today. We were supposed to get an early start now that I got the relays on D deck bypassed. It took twice as long as I expected. I don't suppose—"

It felt as if a giant hand had grabbed the ship and began to use it as a hammer.

* * *

On the bridge, Jonathan Archer had to grab onto the back of his chair to keep from being thrown into the view screen. T'Pol flipped over her science station and crashed onto deck plating with a painful sounding thud. Hickman was thrown hard under the helm console. Hoshi Sato got her head slammed onto the corner of the comm station. She held onto her chair with her right hand and her eye with the left. The hand holding her eye quickly became coated with blood. Malcolm Reed was the only one who remained seated.

As the inertial dampers reasserted themselves, Archer looked to view screen to see that they were still, miraculously in a stable orbit. He ran over to Hoshi, who was being assisted by T'Pol. Hoshi took her hand from her injured eye momentarily. Archer was relieved to see that the young Japanese girl had not lost the eye. He was alarmed to nonetheless see her profusely bleeding directly from the socket. He hit the nearest panel. "Bridge to sickbay, medical emergency." T'Pol seemed to be cradling her left arm. Hickman got up from under the helm console and was gingerly supporting her weight on one foot. She used the helm station to balance herself. Archer turned to Reed. "What the hell just happened?"

Reed's hands flew across his console. "No alien ships in the vicinity, and there's nothing from the planet. Hang on, sir. The internal sensors were knocked out. It'll take a few minutes for the backup generators to kick in."

Archer distinctly heard someone exclaim, "oh, man". The turbo lift doors burst open to reveal Crewman's Cutler, Rand, Davies, and Spencer. Cutler and Davies helped Hickman to the turbo lift while Rand assisted Sato. Spencer moved to assist T'Pol, but she waved him off explaining that she had merely twisted her elbow. Archer had learned long ago not to argue with his first officer when she said she was okay.

As the medics left the bridge with the injured, Reed got his results on his panel. "The shuttle pods are no longer in the launch bay." Archer closed his eyes. He could hear T'Pol clear her throat in anticipation. Reed went on. "It would appear that the launch bay explosively decompressed."

Archer struck the armrest of his seat with a closed fist. T'Pol rotated her injured arm for a moment before entering commands into her own console. "Confirmed."

Archer opened his eyes and turned to T'Pol. "You're certain that internal sensors have been useless in determining the identity of this spy?"

"Every time I attempt to call records for the times in question they appear to have been erased."

Archer walked over to the helm and observed the telemetry aimlessly. "Use the grappler to get the shuttle pods back into the launch bay." Archer sat back in his chair as crew replacements came in to take over helm and navigation. He tapped the comm button on his chair. "Phlox, what are we looking at the way of casualties?"

"Twenty-seven, Captain. Nothing serious. Mostly just cuts and bruises. Three broken bones-two arms and one ankle." Phlox's voice sounded relieved.

Archer was relieved that there were no serious injuries. "Let me guess, Hickman had the broken ankle."

"Actually, no. She had a badly dislocated knee. Fortunately, the cartilage is intact. She's extremely lucky."

"And Hoshi?"

"I've got Cutler cleaning the eye. There wasn't any permanent damage but it'll take a few days for her eyesight to fully return."

"Thank you, Doctor. Archer out." He tapped another button on the comm. "Trip? This is Archer. Any idea how we lost compression in the launch bay?"

Trip sounded a little unsure. "You're going to have to give me a little time on that Captain. I just got into engineering now."

"Where were you?"

"Looking for Ensign Steven."

T'Pol called, "Captain, Ensign Steven reported to sickbay yesterday, shortly after his duty shift ended. He was complaining of an upset stomach."

"I can't imagine why nobody told me. Captain; give us a couple of hours down here. This place is a mess."

"Understood. Archer out." He looked over to T'Pol and beckoned her over. T'Pol glided around console and strode gracefully over to the Captain's Chair. Archer spoke to her under his breath. "T'Pol, if we don't find this spy soon, we're not going to have a ship left. Find out how we can keep whoever it is away from vital systems. I want you to find something that can help us discover our saboteur's identity. Do whatever you have to. Search from stem to stern. Tear this ship apart if you have to, but if we don't find this spy fast, someone's going to wind up dead, and that's the absolute last thing I want to see happen. I know you're doing your best, but this is getting out of hand."

T'Pol contemplated the situation. "I'll have Mr. Reed set up some of his forcefields around all essential areas that the saboteur could access without detection. I will also reprogram the internal sensor network. Also, long-range communications should be back online by 1400. We will be able to call for assistance."

"T'Pol, what would this ship do without you?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

Archer smiled to himself. Who says that Vulcans don't have a sense of humor? "No. Get started."

"Right away, sir." T'Pol called over to Reed who accompanied her to the turbo lift. Archer sat back down and contemplated the week's events. He knew that this was far from over.

* * *

"More acid." Trip looked like he was about to pull his hair out. Archer and T'Pol both knew that nothing annoyed Trip more than having to repair a system he had just got operational again. The three of them and Reed were in the Captain's Ready Room. "Someone put it along the hinges of the starboard bay door. They also burnt a hole in the interior airlock door. It's been on there since the day after the first incident. According to scans, it dissipated after a few hours, but the damage was done. I'm surprised those hinges held this long. We have to get to the doors to repair them from the outside. We can't use the shuttle pods and the transporter went down when the ship was tossed. Our people are stuck in that city."

Archer had been thinking about entire problem. Trip was right; there was no way on or off Enterprise. Unless..."Malcolm, could your forcefields withstand the vacuum of space?"

"Sir?" Reed was understandably curious. So was everyone else.

"If your forcefields were physically mounted to the bulkheads, would they be strong enough to repressurize a compartment on a starship?"

Trip gave T'Pol a surprised glance and then looked back at the Captain. "Captain, are you suggesting that we use forcefields as a substitute for the launch bay doors?"

"Would it work?"

Reed seriously thought it out. "In theory, if you could tighten the particle density of the field enough, it should be able to hold an atmosphere, but that's if the pressure doesn't rip out the field generators."

"Could something be rigged to keep that from happening?"

"It wouldn't be enough to mount them to the hull plating."

Trip filled in. "We would literally have to integrate them into the ships power grid and encase the generators in the ships hull."

Reed looked up in confidence. "If that were the case, it would work."

T'Pol asked, "How long would that take?"

Trip thought for a moment. "We would have to detach the surrounding hull plating, mount the generators, install access ports from the inside so that we wouldn't have to rip the hull out every time we wanted to work on them, and then we would have to calibrate the units. We would then have to reattach the hull. One day, minimum."

"How long to repair the transporter and the launch bay doors?"

"Three days for the transporter. A week for the doors."

Archer looked up and smiled. "It looks like forcefields are the way to go. Get on it."

"Right, Captain." Trip turned to leave.

"Just a second." Trip turned back. Something else occurred to Archer. "T'Pol says that every time there's an incident, something funny happens to the internal sensors. Could Reed's forcefield generators be programmed to activate each time there's a glitch in the sensors?"

"That shouldn't be a problem."

"Okay. I want you to map out every system that the saboteur could use to do the most damage. T'Pol and Malcolm have already got forcefields around most of them. I want forcefield generators set up to completely seal off those areas and programmed to activate the second the internal sensors blank out."

"I'll get team three on it."

"Do it, and keep me posted."

Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed exited the ready room. Captain Archer moved to sit behind his desk took a sip from his mug. It was root beer. On Enterprise it was usually pretty generic, but tonight it tasted just like what Rosey served back in the 602 bar. "I've been thinking about tonight and I've decided to go through with it. We need to keep up the crew's morale. They don't need to know exactly how bad it is."

T'Pol appeared to concur. "What is showing?"

"A good one; Mutiny on the Bounty, the 1964 version with Marlon Brando. Are you going to be there?"

"There is still a great deal to do."

"You could use a break, too."

"How long is this film."

"Almost three hours."

"Are you aware of how much can occur in that time-frame?"

Archer knew she had a point, but there was still another. "You're investigation has dead-ended. At this point, all we can do is wait until Trip and Malcolm come through." T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "Come on, T'Pol. You're exhausted. You could use a break."

"Perhaps if there is time."

"We'll catch whoever it is."

"Assuredly."

* * *

"Hand me that pressure jack." Trip, Malcolm and a six other crewmen were on the exterior hull of the Enterprise just outside the launch bay. They all sweated in their EV suits. The port door was hanging by it's hinges. It was halfway open due to the fact that the hydraulic arms in the superstructure remained stable and held the door firmly. The other door was completely detached from it's hinges. The only thing that was keeping it connected to Enterprise was the locking mechanism that kept the doors attached to one another. Trip had almost finished pulling the hull plating lose. One more jack would expose the mechanisms that open and closed the bay doors. Once this was done, he could then have the doors detached and stored inside the launch bay. Once the forcefield generators were in place he would then be able to repair the damaged door in a pressurized environment...hopefully. Trip now turned to Reed. "You're sure this is going to work."

Reed handed Trip the requested jack and said, "Once we make the proper adjustments, it should work like a charm. These devices have been put in standard use for the past two years now. We've been using them for four years. This technology is based on the same principle as the shields that Starfleet installed on Enterprise last year. My question is; how come nobody thought of this before now? I mean, think of it. If we installed enough of these modules throughout the hull, we would have an effective and efficient way of sealing hull breaches before they become a bigger problem."

Trip locked the jack into place and activated it. "Maybe we should bring it up to Starfleet the next time we're in San Francisco. I'm sure they'd like the idea."

"Couldn't we do it, Commander?"

"Not a snowball's chance in Hell. That's something that would have to be done at Jupiter Station. It would take us half a year to do it. Our interlocking bulkheads are working fine for the time being. Don't get me wrong. It'd be nice to have a forcefield system to do the job. It would make things easier. Right now, though we're just going to have to make due." The jack made a satisfying click and the hull panel came up neatly exposing the hinge mechanism. "That should do it. We just have to get these doors off and into the launch bay, we can use your forcefields in place and then I can get to work repairing these doors."

Over the next thirty minutes, Trips team disassembled the hinge mechanism. Out in space, the weightless doors were one thing. Inside the artificial gravity field of a starship, the extremely heavy doors were a completely different matter. Ensign Cooper connected a hoisting rig to the doors. The rig was tied into an automatic wench. That wench was fixed onto the grappling arm, which the engineering crew was using as a makeshift crane. They could have used the grappler itself, but it wasn't large enough to move the doors all the way the side of the launch bay. Furthermore, a wench was easier to control and steady than the grappler. They would be able to make finer position adjustments than with the grappler. They had instead connected an arm, which had rails that the wench could roll along.

Once the doors were inside and out of the way, Trip and Malcolm began to install their forcefield generators. If this worked, it was going to make a whole lot of engineer's jobs throughout Starfleet a whole lot easier. Of this, Trip was certain.

* * *

The mess hall tables had been moved to one corner and the chairs were repositioned. On the starboard wall a large screen glowed brightly, showing the H. M. S. Bounty docked at Tahiti Island. Leslie Braddock had always loved this movie. Mutiny on the Bounty was her favorite. She looked over to see Doctor Phlox and Lisa Cutler in their usual animated discussions about plot lines and metaphors in film.

Melissa Bluewolf had said she had never seen this movie before. So did James Steven. They seemed to be enjoying it. Captain Archer had chosen a seat directly behind her. She looked back to see that the Captain was more relaxed than anyone had seen him in a month. She turned back around to watch the movie.

Captain Bleigh walked his bizarre walk to a row of bushes in which Mr. Christenson was hiding with one of the village girls. Bleigh had previously ordered him to avoid a relationship with her, as she was the Chief's daughter. Indeed the conversation had taken place at that very row of bushes. Now the Chief felt that the British navy didn't think that his daughter was good enough for one of their officers. This had forced Bleigh to revise his orders. Janice Ray passed Leslie some popcorn. She took a handful and passed the bowl to Alex Mulcahy.

"I did order you to keep the men in line, Mr. Christenson?" Bleigh was rocking back and forth on his heels.

"Yes sir, you did," Christenson replied from the bushes.

"And did you?"

"Yes sir."

"And what are you doing now?"

"Following your orders, sir."

"Damn your eyes!"

Leslie took a few bites of popcorn. "Have you seen this one before, Ensign?" Captain Archer spoke quietly so as to not disturb the other viewers.

"Yes, sir. It's my favorite." Leslie could sense the Captain grinning.

"This is one of my favorites, too. I'm glad to see your not too tense to sit down and enjoy a movie, with all that's been going on."

"I have to say, I didn't think I'd be having breakfast on the ceiling this morning."

"I know what you mean. It felt like the ship was doing somersaults. You know Ensign, news travels fast on a starship. I know you want to prove your innocence, but you wouldn't be planning to do something reckless, would you?"

Leslie's eyes widened and she felt as though her stomach was doing jumping jacks. "I can't just sit and do nothing while other people are determining my fate."

"Oh, yes you can. I understand how you feel, but you have to understand that there's more at stake than your reputation. Your career is on the line. This ship and this mission are on the line. Maybe you want to prove yourself. Maybe you want to help, but all you are going to do is make matters worse. Everyone on this ship has a job to do, and that includes you. I don't think you're the one we're looking for. Neither does T'Pol. If you really want to help and if you really want to prove yourself, then trust me. Trust T'Pol. We can't afford to make a mistake. If we get the wrong person, this ship is sunk and you know it. I'm not Captain Bleigh. I'm not about to do anything that will put this crew at risk. I'm not about to let anyone jeopardize this crew."

"I know, sir. I just feel so helpless right now."

"I know you do. You're lucky though. You're luckier than most people are. You've got friends to help you through this. You have friends who are willing to be there for you. Many people have friends, but very few have friends like yours."

"I know. You're on of the lucky ones."

"What makes you say that?"

"Commander T'Pol and Commander Tucker. It's the same way with you and them."

Archer smiled. "I guess you're right. I tried to get T'Pol in here tonight, but...Oh, well. She had quite bit of work ahead of her anyway. Let her do her job. That's an order."

"Yes, sir." Leslie put the last few kernels in her mouth.

Something had to be done about Captain Bleigh. He had rationed the water so far that the men were dying of thirst. Christenson looked on a sailor who had resorted to drinking seawater.

"Will he survive?" Christenson was deeply concerned now over the behavior of his Captain and the welfare of the crew.

"Not unless he gets sweet water in his guts," the crewman assisting the ill man replied.

It was clear that they would not survive with the rations that Captain Bleigh had placed on everything. Christenson walked over to the water barrel. He unlocked it, dipped the ladle full of water and took it to the dying man. Just as he began to pour the water into the mouth of the man, Captain Bleigh who came seemingly from nowhere kicked the ladle out of Christenson's hands. He responded by punching Bleigh.

* * *

"I guess I'll have to watch tonight's movie from the monitor in my quarters." Malcolm observed his scanner readings as he calibrated the last forcefield generator. "That should do it. Just let me do one last check on the mounts. That's it."

Trip pulled the last jacks out of the final hull panel and fastened it down. As he heard the couplings lock into place, he activated the interlocking seals around each section of the hull plate. "You never go to movie night. It must be a good one."

"Yes sir. It's Mutiny on the Bounty."

"With all the crap that's been going on, I just knew I was going to miss movie night this week. Might miss it next week, too." The hull clamped down firmly. "Okay, we're ready to try our toy out. Everyone in the launch bay."

All six crewmen followed Trip and Malcolm into the launch bay. Malcolm walked up the stairs to the main catwalk and then into the airlock, where the main controls for the bay doors was located. He looked to his left at the pressurization controls, to which were added a new command interface for the forcefield generators. "Here goes nothing. Activating forcefield." The electro-magnetic field hummed to life. Blowers activated to filter in air from the ships atmospheric systems. An alarm buzzed to his right. He evacuated the atmosphere from the launch bay, then pulled a control pad from his belt, which he observed. "Commander Tucker, the second generator in the upper right quadrant is sending out a strong wave variance. It probably got knocked out of place when we fastened down that section of hull plating."

Trip walked to the forward end of the bay entrance and got down on his knees on the port side. He opened one of the panels, which his team had just installed. This panel gave him easy access to the misaligned field generator. Trip pulled out a device of his own and placed his right hand inside the panel. "Let me know how I'm doing, Malcolm."

Malcolm Reed carefully observed his control panel. "Just three more microns, counter-clockwise. That's it. That's perfect. Now, let's try this again." He began to flood the launch bay with air again. This time, no alarms sounded. He looked at his control panel to see that the generators weren't even strained—against the vacuum of space, no less. He then looked at the launch bay controls to see that the launch bay was fully pressurized. The cheer in his voice was evident. "Mr. Tucker, there is no way we're this lucky. I thought this would take days to get right."

"We're good to go?"

"Forcefield is perfectly stable. There is no strain on the generators, and the bay is fully pressurized." Cheers erupted among the six crewmen. Some of them took the helmets off of their EV suits.

Trip took a walk on the forcefield as if not entirely convinced of its existence. The EM field glowed under his feet. He lost his footing a couple of times, but never actually fell. Once he got to the other side, he said, "You need ice skates to go across this thing."

Reed came back to lower level of the launch bay and removed his helmet. "Yes, sir. The field is slippery and if you fall on it, the force of the impact coupled with the recoil of the field could cause serious injury. I don't advise walking on it again."

"I'll keep that in mind. The movie should be over by now. Let's go tell the Captain." The eight of them filed out through the airlock. Trip, Malcolm noted, didn't take his helmet off until he was outside the airlock and in the main corridor.


	5. Chapter 5

LESLIE AND JANICE HAD JUST WALKED out of the mess hall when James came up behind them. Melissa, Alex and Justin were just ahead and Leslie called them back. James walked around to face her. She expected him to say something about the movie, but he didn't say word about it. Melissa, Alex and Justin came up beside them as James began, "I heard Commander Tucker was looking for me this morning."

"We were all looking for you," Leslie countered. "Why didn't you tell anyone you were in sickbay?" Leslie and the others had been worried about him. She had convinced him to attend the movie two days ago. When she had heard that he was ill and in sickbay she started to worry. It wasn't like him to just disappear and not tell anyone. Her only relief came when showed up a minute from the start of the movie. "Then, when I went up to sickbay an hour later, Doctor Phlox told me he had just released you, and none of us heard a peep from you all day."

"Okay, I get it. I was really out of it yesterday. I could barely speak. Then the second I got out of sickbay, I was needed to help repair the power supply to the transporter. Look, I need to know what happened this morning. What caused the ship to flip out?"

Leslie wasn't finished grilling him, but she answered his question anyway. "The launch bay doors blew off."

James' eyes widened. "The launch bay was decompressed? It shook the ship like that?"

"Didn't anyone tell you?"

"I remember quite a few people coming into sickbay, but Phlox had me partly sedated. If anyone told me what happened, I don't remember. Does anyone know how it happened?"

Leslie calmed down a bit. "Commander Tucker said someone put phosphoric acid on the hinges at the same time as the power relays on D deck blew five days ago. Listen, I didn't mean to fly off the handle like that. What happened that landed you in sickbay?"

"Doctor Phlox says that about two days ago, I inhaled some fumes, they worked their way through my system and they started to affect me probably early yesterday morning."

"Why didn't Doctor Phlox tell anyone you were in sickbay?"

"He did. He told Commander T'Pol. She left a message on Commander Tucker's computer, but he never read it."

Melissa looked at James. "Where on this ship could you have possibly inhaled toxic fumes?"

Alex thought about and said, "The aeroponics bay. They get all kinds of plants in from other planets. Who knows what we have aboard?"

Justin looked cynical. "A dangerous plant got past quarantine? I don't think so. Anyway, if that were the case, how come Lisa never gets sick in there?"

Alex retorted, "She's working with Phlox all the time. He won't let her get sick."

Justin made a sound like a raspberry.

Melissa looked skeptical. "I don't know about the aeroponics bay. James works in engineering. Maybe he got a whiff of something in there. Were there any leaks in engineering?"

James looked frustrated and tired. "No. There weren't any leaks in engineering. I'll see you guys in the morning. I have to get some sleep. Good night."

It was only after he left that Leslie realized that she hadn't given him the angry and relieved piece of her mind that she intended to. She was about to turn to the others when Alex said, "I think I'll turn in, too." He gave an excessively large yawn. "G'night." Justin also left for bed.

Leslie turned to Janice and Melissa and said, "Just us girls, then. Are you tired?" Both of them shook their heads "no". "I'm not tired, either. Is there anything in particular that you two want to do?"

Janice gave a toothy smile and said, "You know, Alex, James, and Justin are going to sleeping, while we're wide awake. It just occurred to me that we still owe them for the chayanne pepper."

Leslie got a devilish on her face. "I love the way your mind works."

Melissa frowned. "'Chayanne pepper?'"

Janice patted Melissa on the shoulder. "It was before you joined the group."

Leslie decided to educate their newest friend. "Do you know what Solna is?"

Melissa thought for a moment. "It's an Andorian spice. It became really popular when Earth started trading with the Andorian Empire last year. It's like a cross between sugar and lemon-pepper. It's a red powder. It goes great in tea, and..." a look of understanding crossed Melissa's face. "It looks like ground chayanne pepper."

Leslie grinned. "It also happens to be my, and Janice's, preferred seasoning for—you said it—tea."

Melissa's jaw dropped. "Did they..."

"They did."

"Did you..."

"In generous helpings."

Melissa was trying hard not to laugh. "It was a childish trick. How are you going to get them back?"

Leslie thought for a moment. "One childish trick deserves another. Warm water."

Janice's eyes narrowed. "What's warm water going to do?"

"Well we do have the entry codes for their quarters, and we do know what happens when someone 'accidentally' puts his hand in warm water. Don't we?"

Janice's eyes remained narrowed. She half shouted, "Are we in summer camp?"

"We know how heavy a sleeper Alex is. We could also get a pair of restraints from one of the storage lockers."

Now all three of them shared devilish grins. They each started off at trot. First they turned around, went straight to the mess hall, which thankfully was empty, got three cups, and heated a jug full of water. Next, they headed for a storage locker. They grabbed a pair of restraints that were open and were careful not to close them (none of them knew the release code). Finally, they bolted up to the crew corridor. Melissa and Janice held out their cups while Leslie poured the water, which was still plenty warm.

"Alex and Justin share quarters," said Leslie. "James doesn't have a bunkmate."

Janice grinned an evil grin. "I'll deal with James." They each walked in two separate directions. Melissa walked with Leslie and Janice went the opposite way down the corridor.

The next morning the three of them were in the mess hall, as always, at the same table. Leslie and Melissa looked infinitely proud of themselves. Leslie looked over at Melissa and said, "Now we can truly say that you are one of us." Janice, on the other hand, looked deeply perplexed. Leslie always knew when something was wrong. She and Janice had been neighbors since they were three years old, and the best of friends. Leslie now looked as perplexed as Janice did. "Hey, why the sour-puss?" That was what her mother always said.

Janice looked up as if being shaken from a trance and said, "Huh? Oh, it's nothing. I'm probably just imagining things."

Leslie was about to press on, but at that moment, Alex and Justin walked in. Many amused eyes followed their gaits. A few people pointed and snickered. It was clear that most of the crew was now aware of what had occurred the night before. To Leslie, it was always a mystery how news managed to travel so fast, even on a starship. Alex sat next to Janice and Justin, next to Alex. Justin gave Leslie a falsely cheerful look and said, "Good morning, and how are you three this fine day?"

Leslie and Melissa just grinned. Janice, as before, wasn't paying attention. The whole mess hall was silent, and everyone was watching. None of the five noticed.

Justin went on. "I've had an interesting morning. Wouldn't you say it was interesting, Alex?"

Alex looked up, quite alert. He put on the same falsely cheery air as Justin and said, "Oh, to be certain."

"An interesting morning. I was awoken by a scream, I jumped up and noticed that my legs were soaking wet, and so was my hand." Melissa and Leslie snickered. "I looked up to see who had screamed, and lo' and behold, it was my dear friend, Alex. He was soaking wet, too. There was an added attraction. He was handcuffed to the bed post." Melissa and Leslie chuckled into their hands. "Well, I tried to get them off." Melissa and Leslie began to wheeze. "But I didn't know the release code, and no matter what I did, they wouldn't come off." Melissa and Leslie were now laughing out loud. "I called security. Surely they would have the release codes to the restraints." Melissa and Leslie were in tears. "Well, they did, but it didn't end there. Alex's scream of surprise attracted the curiosity of people in adjoining quarters." Melissa and Leslie shrieked in laughter. "Before we knew it, two and three heads were popping in and out of our quarters, calling back to people who must have been in the corridor. 'Hey, Alex is handcuffed to the bed!' 'Hey, Alex and Justin are all wet!'" Melissa and Leslie were in stitches.

The entire mess hall was roaring with laughter. Justin waited until the laughter died down. Leslie had fallen off of her chair. She climbed back up after Justin asked, "Why would anyone do such a thing?"

Leslie looked him dead in the eye, and without missing a beat, said, "Maybe you switched someone's Solna with chayanne pepper."

Alex looked up. "Oh, so that's what this was all about."

Just then, James came walking in. He sat in the remaining chair, the only one to have gotten breakfast, and began to eat. Justin looked at him and said, "And how was your morning, James? Did you have an interesting morning?"

James looked up in amusement and said, "My morning was just fine." He went back to eating.

Before anyone could say anything else, Janice said, "I accidentally woke him up last night. I didn't get a chance to do it."

Leslie frowned and patted Janice's shoulder sympathetically.

* * *

In sickbay, Hoshi was propped up on her pillows, looking at something very interesting on a notepad. There was a blue patch covering her right eye. Since she couldn't go back down to the city to explore, she had ensigns transmit their findings to her. From the records of the city palace, she had been able to determine that this was indeed an Ionian city. She wasn't able to determine from the records, exactly where the people went, but there was evidence in the writings to suggest that they never left.

"Did you find something interesting?" Hoshi looked up into the face of Travis Mayweather and smiled warmly. "How's your eye?"

Hoshi smiled again. "It's fine. It still hurts like hell, though. Dr. Phlox checks it every hour. He won't let me see it. He says it's really gross. I took a chance about half an hour ago pulled off the patch and sneaked a peek in the mirror. The cornea is completely red. The eyelids are separated and pulled away from the eye. It is really gross. How have you been?"

"I have to tell you, it got kind of creepy being stuck down there."

Hoshi raised her eyebrows and winced in pain. "I'll bet it did. T'Pol says that she's certain that those generators are keeping that city phased out of our normal layer of space and that's why it's so well preserved. In other words, it's two different realms, simultaneously. That means that the inhabitants could be occupying this city in one realm while it's deserted in the other. That's not all.

"Here's what you sent me." Hoshi held up the pad. "These are all the writings that you've been able to gather from all over the city. Some of them are stories, poetry and what not. For example, there's a story about a man who goes on a quest to discover the end of the universe and never returns. Some of them, however are rather mundane documents that specifically refer to Iona, and identify Vinarra as a planet controlling Ionian interests in this galaxy. It's referred to as Kisvet—proper pronunciation requires an emphasis on 'Kis'. According to these records, the Ionian capital is in a galaxy called Shimet. I asked T'Pol to check the coordinates. Shimet is the Magellanic Clouds.

"Now one of the questions that has been coming up is, if the Ionians have been extinct for three million years, how come they've endured in legend? I checked the Vulcan database for the answer. About six hundred years ago, a race called the Vegans uncovered some literature and documents in this region of space, which allegedly reveals the fate of the Ionians. The Vegans were wiped out about two hundred years ago during a war with the Romulans.

"Anyway, in the documents, it was told that the Ionians didn't die at all but that they were forced to abandon this 'realm'-that's the exact word used in the Vegan records. They claimed that this realm had become threatening to them and that the organic had become dangerous. That lends weight to T'Pol's initial theory that the Ionians evolved beyond the organic."

Travis had been taking all of this in. He looked at Hoshi in confusion and asked, "Are you telling me that they shed their bodies like they were caterpillars or something?"

"Well, what's so unusual about that? We see metamorphosis in nature all the time. Caterpillars are a good example, but we've seen more complex forms of metamorphosis and transmutation. For example, the Chameloids we met last year. They can change their shape at will. Then there was the mysterious ship that captured us in our second year. You remember. They were the ones that tried to take us over by inhabiting our bodies and leaving our conscious minds inside their deteriorating ship. Then look at almost every religion and what they say about death-Christianity, Islam, and Buddha, to name a few. They say that the same thing will happen to us when we die. We will shed our mortal bodies and our conscious spirits, or our immortal souls, will live on. The Vulcans have a similar belief, except that their beliefs have a scientific basis.

"What the Vegan records are saying is that this happened while the Ionians were still alive. They literally evolved into energy based life forms. I don't think we can even begin to imagine, but there's a reason the Ionians wanted this city so well preserved. I agree with T'Pol that there was no logical reason for a dying race preserve a city so perfectly that it was as though they were still alive."

Travis cut in again. "So you're saying that the reason is because they are still alive?"

"Yes."

"Okay, now I'm really starting to get freaked out."

"There's more. T'Pol, Trip and I couldn't understand how the generators could preserve the city so perfectly by themselves. The files you downloaded and photocopied may have answered that problem. According to some of the records you found, there is a computer two miles beneath the city that's regulating all of the city functions. Now this isn't a simple regulating information database like the computer we have here. The Ionians programmed this computer with sentience. Why? Who can say?

"Now you have found evidence that the Ionians are still alive. Yes, you. You know the filing system you got all of these records from? They're still being updated. I'm not sure if you noticed, but when you photographed one of the files on the computer terminal you were unable to download from, you took several pictures. The first picture showed just a regular file number. The next picture showed the words, 'new file entry'. The next picture showed a new file number. What's more is some of these files contained information about Earth, Vulcan, Kronos and Andor and a bunch of planets that I've never even heard of. Travis, one of these files made a direct reference to Zephram Cochrane.

"Travis, someone or something is still alive down there, and it's still interacting with the interstellar community."

* * *

"Not exactly the work of a saboteur." Captain Archer had just finished reading the security report concerning the incident earlier in the morning involving Alex Mulcahy, Justin Aldin, Leslie Braddock, and Melissa Bluewolf. He was trying very hard not laugh, although he was not doing a very good job. "It looks like we have a case of two silly little girls doing the things that silly little girls do. I'm not about to open an inquiry over a practical joke."

"Practical joke or not, the saboteur may still be Leslie Braddock, silly little girl or not." T'Pol was right, and Archer knew it.

"Still, this is hardly evidence that Leslie Braddock is a traitor to Earth."

"She stole a pair of restraints."

"And we got them back. No harm done. Of course, Leslie and Melissa will be disciplined, but I'm not about to throw these girls in the brig over a practical joke."

"I do not disagree, Captain. We should, however consider all possibilities. Let the punishment fit the crime, but remain cautious nonetheless."

Archer looked up at T'Pol from his desk. His old elementary school astronomy book was sitting right in front of him. It may have been a little silly, but he liked to flip through it once in a while, as a reminder of what, to him were simpler times. "I agree. What did you have in mind."

"Since the prank, harmless though it may have been, resulted in public humiliation, firstly I believe a public apology is in order. For the theft of the restraints, temporary though it may have been, I believe some form of a day's worth of menial labor is in order."

"You want them to scrub plasma conduits, or something?"

"I do not think it is an unreasonable punishment. It is only one day out of their lives, and I ask you to consider that the punishment for a theft of this nature is two weeks confinement to quarters. I wonder which one they would prefer?"

Archer looked thoughtful and then said, "I don't have a problem with your suggestion. Have Malcolm deal with disciplinary measures. As for you, keep on that saboteur, whoever it is."

* * *

Janice went through her day as usual. To say that she seemed preoccupied was an understatement. Commander T'Pol had to ask her three times for the results of the spectral analysis on one of the artifacts that they had brought back from the city. Her mind drifted back and forth between her five friends and she wondered if she really did know any of them. Did any of them really know her? Melissa Bluewolf was new to their group so of course it would take time with her, but James, Justin, Alex, and Leslie...how could anyone know anyone? It wasn't as though they were telepathic and could read each other's minds. No, she thought, I know Leslie. I grew up with Leslie. She doesn't count in this question. Don't bring her into this, Janice. She deserves more from you.

That left James, Justin and Alex. Of course, it was the girls against the guys. That was the way it always been with them. That was because they were all friends and they all loved each other. Janice realized that she really never took the time to get to know anyone except Leslie. It was Leslie who was the outgoing one. It was Leslie who wasn't afraid of being insulted or rejected. It was Leslie who didn't take any of that stuff personally. What if Janice were to open up to any of the guys, only to find out that the only reason that they associated with her was because of Leslie.

It had always been like that. Janice was always the bookworm. She was always the nerd, and Leslie's friends had only ever liked Janice because Leslie had made them like Janice. No one ever picked on Janice because Leslie had always stuck up for her. Life was much more pleasant in school when one's friend was Leslie Braddock. Leslie deserved the absolute best. She never had a bad thing to say about anyone. Janice paused in thought. A realization came to her. Ever since they were little girls, Leslie never once insulted a single person. She had never complained about a teacher, or levied the usual teenage accusations against her parents.

That settled it. Janice took her lunchtime and instead of using it for food, she walked right down to E deck where Malcolm had started them on cleaning plasma conduits. She was just out of the turbo lift when she stumbled across a friendly face. "Hey, what brings you down here?"

"I was told to take a look at a burnt relay," the young Ensign said. "How about you?"

"I was going to visit Leslie during her day of torment to talk to her about something." Janice looked down at the duffel the Ensign was carrying. In the dimness of the light and the darkness of the partially opened bag's interior, she could see a green glowing liquid in what looked like a glass jar. Phosphorous glows in the dark. Janice took a step back, but tried to remain friendly and casual. "What's that for?"

The Ensign looked down in his bag and he looked back up to Janice and said, "It's nothing. Just some coolant for the relay systems."

Janice knew that coolant wasn't kept in old-fashioned bell jars. She knew that old-fashioned bell jars didn't usually have glass stopper lids. She also knew that the relay system was electrical and didn't need coolant. She took another step back. This time, her suspicion and fear was evident. "What are going to do with it?"

The Ensign smiled warmly. "You know what I'm going to do with it."

Janice turned and ran, but as she did, she felt a sharp object painfully pierce her shoulder blade. It didn't feel like a knife. It felt like a syringe. She tried to run again as she felt the object removed from her shoulder, but it was as though her feet were glued to the floor. She looked back at the Ensign who spoke, but she couldn't understand what he was saying. She could barely hear. She looked around. It didn't look like the ship's corridors anymore, yet it did. She could hear sounds all around her, but she couldn't make them out. The next thing she knew was that she was being carried. She had never been in this section of the ship before. All she could see was catwalks and boxes. It couldn't be a cargo bay, it was too small. Was this part of Enterprise? She had never seen this place before. Had anyone ever been in here? Would anyone ever find her in here? She wasn't afraid of dying. She was afraid of being alone. She was afraid of never being found. She was afraid that no one would ever find her. No one would ever find her in here.

She felt her back hit the floor, hard. Had he dropped her? Had he thrown her? She was under a catwalk. Her murderer was gone. She couldn't see him. She couldn't hear him. Whatever he had injected her with would do its job at any moment. It didn't hurt and she knew that there were much worse ways to die, but this had to be one of the most frightening ways to die. Then she saw the catwalk coming closer. Was she going to it, or was it coming to her? No, it was coming to her. It was getting closer. It was there. Through the horribly loud din of silence, she heard a loud crash, and pain shot through her like a bolt of lightening. She felt her blood spatter her face. She might have screamed, but through the din of silence and the agony of her crushed torso she couldn't tell. She didn't even know if she could scream.

She closed her eyes. At least she could still do that. She wanted to open them again. She wanted to wake up from this nightmare. She was afraid to open her eyes. She was afraid that when she opened them, it would be like those stories about near-death experiences. She was afraid she would look down and see her mangled corpse. She wanted to open her eyes. She wanted to wake up from this nightmare. She opened them, and she didn't see her mangled body at all. She saw Melissa and Leslie and T'Pol and Phlox and all of them looked frantic. Someone heard the crash. That had to be it. She wanted to tell them. She wanted to shout for all to know that it wasn't Leslie. She knew who the real saboteur was. She knew the face of her killer, but she knew that she would never be able to tell anyone.

Then all she knew was darkness.

* * *

"Will she be okay?" Leslie's voice cracked, in spite of her efforts to remain calm. She looked around sickbay. She saw Melissa, Alex, James, and Justin. They were all worried. They were all beside themselves. Her eyes rested on the curtain that hid Janice.

Phlox crossed his arms and said, "I was able to repair the life threatening injuries. She will mostly recover." His expression was quite somber.

Leslie closed her eyes in relief, but her relief was not complete. "What do you mean by 'mostly'?"

"I was unable to save her legs. I also am uncertain if she will ever recover her memory of the twelve hours leading up to the event." Leslie had to hold someone. She had to hold anyone. Melissa was the closest and Leslie quickly buried her face into her new friend's shoulder and began to cry. Melissa was by no means surprised or unprepared and readily returned Leslie's embrace.

Leslie slowly released Melissa, sniffed and said, "Is she awake?"

"Yes, she just woke up half an hour ago. It was why I called you all here. The pain relievers did their job quite well, and I was able to remove the psychotropic agent that placed her in her catatonic state. Now if you wish to see her, I think she would like that very much."

All five of them crossed the threshold of the curtain. Janice was on the other side on a bio bed covered neatly in a blanket. She looked up wearily. Leslie walked up to her, grabbed a chair that was under the bio monitor, and sat beside Janice taking her hand into her own. Everyone came closer. Melissa and James took the two remaining chairs. Alex and Justin walked to the other side of the bio bed and kneeled beside her.

"Doctor Phlox told me what happened." Janice's voice was weak and unsteady.

Leslie was on the verge of tears again. "You don't remember any of it?"

Janice shook her head 'no'. "The last thing I remember was Captain Bleigh telling everyone on the H. M. S. Bounty that he didn't need a flog. Doctor Phlox says that in time I might remember. He says that I was yelling when you guys found me. He says I kept repeating, 'It wasn't Leslie. I know who it was. It wasn't Leslie'."

"Yes you were."

"Did I say who it was?"

"No. You didn't seem to think we could hear you. You just said that you wouldn't be able to tell anyone."

"I guess I was right."

Leslie smiled weakly and then leaned over and kissed Janice on the forehead. She felt a bit warm and Leslie looked over at temperature reading on the bio monitor. Her temperature was 101.2 degrees Fahrenheit. "You're running a bit of a fever."

"I know. Doctor Phlox gave me something for it when I woke up."

Melissa moved closer to Janice. Leslie took her hand and put it into Janice's hand with her own. Melissa leaned closer and asked, "What did you dream about?"

Janice laughed slightly. "I don't really remember."

Melissa smiled and said, "My mom always used to ask me that when I was sick. I would tell her if I could remember, and it would always make me feel better. I remembered that my dreams were more interesting when I was sick. My mom said it was the spirits telling us things. I just hoped that if you could remember your dreams, you would start to feel better."

Janice sat up a bit and then pulled Melissa into an embrace.

* * *

"I had heard the crash echo through the deck plating, and I was all the up on the bridge. There's no doubt that Ensign Braddock had nothing to do with this?" Archer stared at T'Pol through expectant eyes.

"None at all, sir," T'Pol replied. Archer breathed a sigh of relief. "I was checking on Ensign's Braddock and Bluewolf at the time. The acid had been applied directly to the bolts of the catwalk. There was no way that Leslie could have left her post, attacked Janice in the storage area, apply the acid and return to her post in the time it took the incident to occur. I would have noticed."

Archer looked around at the command center, with its panels and displays flickering, beeping and doing everything that computers do. He looked back to T'Pol and said, "I'm glad we cleared her, but all the same, we're back to square one."

"Not necessarily. We still have the phosphoric acid to go on and seven other suspects. From Ensign Ray's ranting, we can assume that our suspect is male, bringing us down to six suspects."

"But no way to tie them to the crimes."

"The link is there and I will find it, sir."

"That's why I put you on this." It was time change the subject. "Have you talked to Hoshi?"

"She says that she has begun transmitting all of our findings to Starfleet. Their response has been awed, to say the least."

"I can imagine."

"Ambassador Soval says that the Vulcan Science Directorate is in an uproar. They want to send a ship to begin excavating this city immediately. He assures that the city will only be studied and not disturbed for the reason of Ensign Sato's own findings."

"If someone is alive down there, the Vulcans don't want to upset them. As soon as this saboteur is captured, I want to begin looking for this computer that Hoshi described. If it is sentient, who knows what we could learn from it."

"That is assuming that it would choose to tell us anything, or that we would even be able to understand it."

"Let's hope for the best."

T'Pol turned to leave. Captain Archer turned back to the main monitor on which the ancient writings were being displayed. They almost seemed to be speaking to him. They seemed to be drawing him in. He felt a strong familiarity with this language. It was as if he were viewing a perfect language as Hoshi had described it. He only wished that he knew what it was saying. He heard the door behind him open and then shut. He turned to see that he was now alone in this command station.


	6. Chapter 6

It was 0200 and sickbay was almost entirely devoid of life, not counting of course the numerous animals and insects that Doctor Phlox kept. Alex, James and Justin had decided to go back their quarters and sleep promising that they would return in the morning. Leslie on the other hand had decided to stay. Melissa had decided to stay as well. They were sleeping soundly now. Doctor Phlox was in his office finishing a late night report. Nobody noticed that anything was amiss. Nobody noticed the shadow that entered the sickbay. Nobody noticed it go to Janice's bedside. Nobody noticed it leave thirty seconds later.

Everybody was alert when Janice began to convulse and the alarms on the bio monitor sounded. Leslie, in a panic, drew closer to Janice, and called for help. Doctor Phlox was already to Janice's bedside. Phlox tried to move Leslie out of his way, but Janice would not let go. She clung to Leslie as though it was she and she alone that held Janice in this world. Doctor Phlox looked up at the bio monitor and saw that Janice's vital functions had all but ceased.

Leslie was frozen as if in a trance. Phlox tried to bodily move Leslie again, but Janice not only held onto Leslie, but also pushed Phlox away with her free hand. Phlox looked at her eyes and knew. Janice was dying, and she didn't want to die alone. Phlox saw the burns on her mouth, and realized immediately what would have caused them. At that very moment, Janice was no longer the only person who knew the identity of her killer. Phlox would have to confirm. He made one last desperate effort to get to Janice, but it was already too late. Janice's vitals dropped off completely. Everything seemed to have happened in the span of six seconds.

Phlox took a scan of Janice Ray's body. His suspicion confirmed; he put down his scanner and activated the intercom on the bio monitor. "Phlox to T'Pol. Ensign Janice Ray is dead. I need you down here."

Leslie held on to Janice. Melissa sat on her chair in shock. Leslie looked back up at Doctor Phlox. The misery in her eyes was heartbreaking. Very softly, she said, "You said she would be okay."

T'Pol entered a few moments and observed Janice's body, clearly distressed. She turned to Phlox and asked, "Can you tell me how she died?"

Phlox looked serious and quite angry. "I can tell you more than that, Commander. I can tell you who killed her." Melissa and Leslie were startled out of their misery by this shocking statement. "Ensign James Steven."

"What?" Leslie and Melissa spoke simultaneously. Leslie shook her head. "No. James wouldn't have done this. He wouldn't have hurt her."

T'Pol ignored Leslie's protests. "Doctor, how have you arrived at this conclusion?"

"Phosphoric acid." T'Pol suddenly felt like an idiot. She had been investigating for a week and Doctor Phlox had the answer the entire time. He continued, "About a week ago, an hour or so before the incident on D deck, Mr. Steven came in complaining that he had suffered burns to his hands during an experiment in the aeroponics bay. Apparently the experiment involved the effects of various chemicals on fertilizer. He said that he had accidentally mishandled one of the chemicals and burnt his hands. You will recall that he had a Derma-Plaste coating on his hands the next day. When I examined Mr. Steven, I found the residue of phosphoric acid. I had wondered about this, but thought nothing of it. Ensign Cutler is always running experiments in the aeroponics bay and is always enlisting the help of volunteers.

"No one else has suffered any injuries from phosphoric acid. No else on board has used phosphoric acid for any reason. About two days ago, Mr. Steven came in, not only complaining of an upset stomach, but he was so dysfunctional that he could barely even speak. Once again, when I examined him, I found traces of phosphoric acid in his lungs. Apparently he had accidentally inhaled the fumes. I assumed that he had gone back to the aeroponics bay to continue the experiment and had mishandled the substance yet again.

"Just now, at the moment of young Ensign Ray's death, I noticed burns on her mouth, which I knew was the result of having acid poured into her system. Mr. Steven most likely began while she was asleep. By the time she woke, her vocal cords were too severely damaged to call out for help. After she died, I took a scan of her body and this is what I found. See for yourself." He picked up the medical scanner he had used and set it on Janice's body. He then pressed a sequence on the bio monitor. An image of Janice's internal organs appeared on the screen. "Do you see this substance? It is clearly glowing. As you know, phosphorous is a photoreceptive mineral. It reacts to light by filtering it, amplifying it, and then reflecting it. It requires light in order to work. The Human body is almost ninetyâ€”percent water. The organic tissue that composes the Human body is translucent, meaning that light will pass through it."

Doctor Phlox went over and completely turned off the sickbay lights. The wounds on Janice's mouth glowed green, and though it was difficult to notice, her body had a faintly green aura to it. Doctor Phlox turned the lights back on. He walked back over to T'Pol and said, "At the time of death, there also would have been a faintly green haze above her head from exhalation. There is no doubt in my mind as to the identity of our murderer, and there should be no doubt in your mind as to the identity of our saboteur."

Leslie collapsed into Melissa's arms and began to sob uncontrollably. Melissa held her tightly and cried, too. T'Pol would have joined them were she not Vulcan. If she hadn't repressed her emotions she would cry also, but she had a job to do, and fortunately for that, she was not Human. She stepped over to the intercom and activated it. "T'Pol to Captain Archer."

* * *

James Steven sat by the primary plasma exchangers, which were located one deck below main engineering. If more than four of them were ruptured, it would cripple Enterprise. If more than twelve of them were ruptured, it would cause a cascade failure leading all the way to the main reactor core. The ship would become a blazing fireball. The panel to access them already removed. Now all he had to do was wait for his program to disable the internal sensors.

Why did poor Janice have to be so curious? Why couldn't the brainiac have left well enough alone? The stupid girl wasn't even trying to find him. She stumbled onto him. The problem was that she already knew. So she didn't remember who had attacked her. She would have eventually remembered what happened later in the previous night. Memory blocks don't commonly last for twelve hours. In a day or so, it would have been down to four or five hours and she would remember that she had caught him sending a transmission to the Bindu. She had chalked it up to an over-active imagination, but she would have eventually figured it out. She would realize what she had seen, and she would realize that that was the reason she was attacked, and she would realize that the saboteur was her dear friend.

In her next life, maybe she'll choose her friends more carefully.

* * *

This was one of those ever so rare times in which Travis Mayweather was left in command. He wasn't enjoying it as he usually did. The call from T'Pol had been disturbing to say the least. He had always thought James was an okay guy. Sure, he kept to himself. He was a little strange, but to think that he was a murderer? There was no mistake in the call from the Commander. There was no mistaking the Doctors voice confirming his findings. Then Captain Archer and Lieutenant Reed bolted for the turbo lift.

Hoshi sat in her station to the starboard side of the bridge. The blue patch was still in place on her left eye. Doctor Phlox had insisted that she was not to remove or otherwise play with it for one week. She was also to report to sickbay once per day. These were the conditions that he had laid down in order for her to be cleared for duty. Hoshi had readily agreed, but Travis could swear that when no one had been looking, he had briefly caught a glimpse her tugging lightly at the edge.

Hickman still hadn't been cleared for duty after her knee injury, and with almost all of the senior staff gone, the bridge felt a bit empty. An alarm went off at Reed's console. Another one went off at T'Pol's console. The third and final alarm went off at Hoshi's console. Hoshi looked up at her sensor read out screen and said, "I'm reading some kind of spatial distortion, twenty-degrees off starboard." On the main view screen, Travis and Hoshi could see what appeared to be a vortex in space. Two ships emerged from it. They looked like the ships that had been shown on command center's main display monitor. They had the same organic and flowing quality.

Travis, who never sat in the Captain's Chair when he was left in charge, tapped the intercom on his helm console. "Bridge to Captain Archer."

His intercom beeped. Captain Archer's voice sounded from the bridge speakers. "Go ahead, Ensign."

"Sir, a vortex just opened up. Those two ships are back."

"They have wonderful timing. Tactical alert. Raise our shields. We haven't had a very good test of them yet. Hope that we don't have one now. Have Hoshi open a channel. Find out what they want."

Travis leapt back to the Captain's Chair and accessed the command functions from the armrest. He keyed in the auto-defense sequence. The shields raised automatically. "Go ahead, Hoshi."

Hoshi placed the comm receiver in her ear, keyed in a series of commands and then said, "This is Ensign Hoshi Sato of the Starship Enterprise. How may we be of assistance."

The response was immediate. "You may be of assistance by lowering your defense field."

Hoshi steeled herself and said, "I apologize for your rude reception, however during our last meeting you took our Captain without any warning or clearance. Good, though your intentions may have been, we found that action alarming, and we don't appreciate that, so now we raise our shields for you." Hoshi surprised herself with her own defiance.

"We understand the reason for your actions. Understand that we have no interest in helping you. We are here to ensure the preservation of the timeline. Now lower your shields or we will lower them for you."

Hoshi closed the channel and said, "They're charging weapons!"

Travis tapped the intercom. "Captain, did you get all of that?"

Archer's voice sounded across the intercom. "All of it. Travis, if they fire a single shot—"

"I know, Captain. Give 'em Hell."

"Tell Hoshi that I approve of her bravado. It looks like I made the right choice with her. Archer out."

Hoshi looked perplexed. "What choice?"

Travis knew that they had other things to worry about. "Are they getting ready to fire?"

"They've targeted our shield generators, but they haven't...Wait!"

Before Hoshi could say another word, Enterprise rocked as though the Hammer of Thor had struck it.

The program activated. James could feel the fire fight as the ship rocked to and fro. He knew that the Bindu would not dare destroy Enterprise. They were weak and afraid. He would just have to do it for them. He moved towards the open access panel, pulled a jar that was filled with phosphoric acid from his bag, and opened it. How useful this primitive substance had been. He knew that he had to rupture at least twelve of the exchangers to destroy Enterprise. He looked over at an interface to see a display of the ship. The fight had ended. The ship's weapons and shields were disabled. One final act of sabotage, and he could signal the Bindu for transport. It is interesting to note that his mind did not once wander to Leslie, Melissa, Alex or Justin.

As he dipped a special, acid resistant dropper into the green substance, he heard the buzz of forcefields humming to life. It was of no consequence. The Bindu could transport through this pathetic technology easily. One, two, three exchangers doused. How easy it was to put an end to this Temporal Cold War. He dipped into the acid again. Four, five, six and he was halfway to his goal. He dipped into the acid yet again.

"Drop it, Ensign!" James dropped the dipper, not in answer to the voice's request, but out of surprise. James heard the forcefield drop. He turned to see Captain Archer with a phase pistol.

James looked over at the acid. It was on the deck plating. Even if it were shot, it would never make contact the rest of the exchangers, and the dipper had fallen into the bowels of the plasma exchange system where it could do no harm. He was suddenly painfully aware that he was not equipped with a phase pistol. Oh well, so Enterprise would fly on. Trip, however would get the hell scared out of him. That, at least, was something. James had never liked Trip, anyway. He now had to go to his secondary objectives.

Archer looked at him in fury and asked, "Why?"

James, finding the question curious, said, "It was my job to disable this ship."

"Dammit, I know why you sabotaged the ship. I'm asking about Janice."

"What about her?" James' voice was casual. Archer only got angrier, and James was supremely enjoying it.

"She trusted you. She loved you, and you murdered her."

James knew what would really tick Archer off. "Why should I care? It's not as if she was important."

Archer was too stunned for words. He felt like shooting the traitor. It would be so easy to just switch the setting from stun to kill and just pull the trigger. "Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. You would kill a girl and then say that she wasn't important. It's interesting to note that everyone who knew her referred to her as kind and gentle. We see what you are. Of course, why should you care about her?"

"That guilt-trip bullshit won't work on me, Captain."

"Of course I can't really figure out why she associated with you. I mean, look in the mirror, and it isn't as if you were actually that intelligent. After all, you used phosphoric acid for your sabotage, got injured with it, and then kept using it. How intelligent can you be."

James actually laughed. "Mistakes are proof of nothing."

"Like parading around with Derma-Plaste on your hands with no good reason for it? You're not too bright, Ensign."

"I was smarter than Janice."

"I'll bet if Janice had wanted to kill someone, she wouldn't have screwed it up on her first try."

James started to get angry. "She was a stupid little animal. I put her down like one."

"What was that just now? Are you actually stupid enough to reveal the fact that you're not Human?"

"There's no proof. The genetic alterations were perfect. Irreversible. Not even the most powerful scanner could say there was anything inhuman in me."

"Then you were stupid enough to permanently change your identity. How did T'Pol let an idiot like you slip by her?"

James suddenly calmed down. "It wasn't easy to avoid her. I knew that to stay anonymous, I would have to rig the evidence to implicate someone else. I never counted on it being Leslie. With her in the middle of it, T'Pol was on us like a Regulan bloodworm. The damned pointed ear, green-blooded bitch was always there, asking questions. I had to start distancing myself from Leslie."

"I know. You started showing up in the mess hall later than usual. With Leslie in the middle of it, you had to be careful. You decided to get rid of her, the one who so compassionately reached out to you, but something more pressing happened. Janice bumped into you on E deck, and by some kind of fate, deduced what your intentions were. You only had enough drugs for two: Leslie and Melissa. With half of it flowing in Janice, you couldn't carry out your main objective. Tell me. Janice had lost her memory of the event. Why did you finish her off?"

"I knew she would recover at least some of her memory. The previous night, she had been involved in the practical joke that humiliated Alex and Justin. She walked into my quarters and saw me with a transmitter. She thought that it was just her imagination. It was okay, until the next day when she noticed the acid in my partially opened duffel. She may not have remembered the attack, but she would have eventually remembered blundering into my conversation the previous night, and realize what she had seen."

Archer smiled. "They're really going to like you at Fort Leavenworth."

"You have to get me there first."

At that moment, the acid burnt through the exchangers. It wasn't enough to destroy the ship, but it was enough to cause a system failure in the impulse drive, making the ship list violently. Archer was thrown to one side of the corridor. He raised his phase pistol to where James had been and fired, but he had already left the Captain's sights. James crashed into Archer. The traitor was clearly under the impression that he could subdue the Captain by force, but the 164-pound, twenty-four year old Ensign was no match for the 200-pound, forty-six year old Captain. James hit Archer in the forehead with the force of an hammer. Archer punched James in the jaw with the force of an anvil. The impact of the blow cleanly lifted James off of the deck plating.

Archer tackled the Ensign with the force of a linebacker. He held his phase pistol to James' head. T'Pol and Reed suddenly appeared around the bend of the corridor and each drew phase pistols on the Ensign. Archer fixed a determined look on Ensign Steven. "It's over. End of the line."

James grinned. "Not by a long shot. The future moves faster than you think."

Archer's face changed to bewilderment as the saboteur echoed the words of a dead Klingon. As T'Pol and Reed watched, Jonathan Archer and James Steven dissolved in a flash of red light. It was a transporter signature. Illogical though it was, T'Pol cried out into thin air, "Captain!" She moved over the nearest interface and called the bridge. "Ensign Mayweather, what's the status of those two alien ships?"

Travis' response was the final blow. "They just entered back into that vortex."

"Is there any way you can pursue them?"

"Whatever the saboteur did, Commander Tucker says that it crippled the ship. What's going on?"

T'Pol almost couldn't say. She didn't want to believe it. She looked back at Malcolm Reed who was leaning against a bulkhead clearly in distress. T'Pol turned back to the intercom. "They've taken the Captain."


	7. Chapter 7

LESLIE WALKED INTO SICKBAY in the early morning. She hadn't slept all night. She had been crying all night. Two tragedies had devastated her. One of her best friends had been murdered, and one of her best friends had been the murderer. To make matters worse, Captain Archer had been abducted, and the ship was without warp power, possibly for two months. She was reluctant to move past the double doors of sickbay. There was a curtain in place around Janice's bed. Doctor Phlox had been preparing her all night for the funeral.

Leslie, with lead in her feet, walked forward. She passed through the curtain where Melissa, Alex and Justin were kneeling beside Janice. Cosmetic surgery had eliminated the wounds around her mouth. Prosthetic legs had been fitted to her body, which was now dressed in full uniform. She looked like she was sleeping. She walked over to the bedside. The tears came so quickly now. Leslie could never remember crying like this. Janice looked so peaceful. Leslie took the body of her friend in an embrace, sobbing all the while. She felt Melissa's hand gently resting on her shoulder.

In all things, Leslie blamed T'Pol more than anyone else. She had said it herself. If she had only come to Phlox, she would have been able to avoid this. She said she was responsible for the investigation. She said that she had failed to account for an obvious piece of evidence. She said that it was therefore logical to assume that she bore some responsibility for this tragedy. Leslie knew that the truth was, that this was in no way T'Pol's fault. She wasn't angry with T'Pol. She was disappointed. She was disillusioned. She had always looked up to T'Pol. She had always admired T'Pol. Now she new that T'Pol the Vulcan, T'Pol the alien, and T'Pol the logical being was as fallible as everyone else. Perhaps she owed T'Pol an apology.

Leslie gently laid Janice down on the bio bed. Her voice was hoarse and wet. "All I've been able to think about all night is that this is a dream. This is a horrible dream. I'll wake up and Janice will be on the bunk above me getting ready for her duty shift. She'll be there to throw something at me. She always has to throw something at me when we're getting ready. It'll be a towel, or a boot, or a hairbrush or something. It's so surreal. I keep doing things like she's still there. I'll turn around and ask if I can borrow something, or..." her voice trailed off.

Alex and Justin each tried to say something, but they were just left with their mouths open in confused shock. Melissa drew Leslie toward her, held her, and started to cry. So they all just sat there. They had their final morning with Janice Ray. At noon, she was placed in the tube of a gutted out photonic torpedo. The words "Ensign Janice Lorrielle Ray To the void we commit thee and for thy sacrifice we honour thee" were stenciled on the lid to the casing. From that day forth, life would move on without her. Her birthday would be a month later, and Leslie had no intention of missing it. Perhaps she was clinging to the past. She didn't care. The past was the only thing she had, and Janice was the only past she had.

* * *

Trip Tucker had a somber expression on his face. The final act of sabotage was a horrible kick in the stomach for him. He also knew that it was a kick in the stomach for everyone else. He, Malcolm, T'Pol, Hoshi, and Phlox were in the command center. They had spent the last two hours reviewing the events of the previous week. The data from Trip's engine diagnosis did not look good. Trip continued with the debriefing. "As you can see from these specs here," he pointed to an area of the main monitor, "every single anti-matter injector blew out when the exchangers went. That caused a cascade failure in our EPS grid that lead all the way to our primary impulse manifold. If you think that hole in the saucer hull was caused by the impulse drive igniting and getting torn out, then you thought right.

"That led to another series of power failures throughout the primary power matrix, that triggered another cascade failure in the EPS grid that led all the way to the nacelles. Now they didn't rip themselves out, but the systems are burnt to a crisp."

T'Pol looked over to the display. "How long before you can have warp drive back?"

Trip considered a moment and said, "Six months, at best. I can't even give you impulse power in that time frame to be honest."

T'Pol surveyed the room and said, "We will have to ask Starfleet for assistance. The Saratoga is two weeks from here. Ensign Sato, you will contact Starfleet. Tell them precisely what has taken place and request that they advise. Then send a distress call on all Vulcan and Starfleet frequencies. Mr. Tucker, I want you to get to work on those engines. Get me impulse drive at the very least. Dismissed."

T'Pol was the last one to exit the command center. Everything that had been said in that room all boiled down to the same thing: Captain Archer was gone, and they had no way to find him. They had no way to get him back. T'Pol continued down to her quarters. They were sparsely decorated, as was her preferrence, except for the many scented candles she used in meditation. She usually meditated in order to clear her mind for sleep. Tonight she meditated in order clear her mind for reception. In the recesses of her mind there had to be a logical solution to this ship's situation. Though they were crippled, there had to be a way to find the Captain.

She pulled out her largest candle and lit it. It was the orange one, which was her favorite. It smelled like peaches. T'Pol sat in her meditative position, legs crossed, and arms extended, and she closed her eyes. T'Pol remembered when she first came to Earth. She had taken a tour of San Francisco, and she passed a food market down by Fisherman's Wharf that was selling various fruits and vegetables. She remembered detecting the most wonderful aroma she had ever smelled in her entire life. She left the tour group of mostly Humans, some of which were slightly alarmed by the presence of an alien. She tracked down the alluring odor. She went straight to a fruit stand where the smell was overwhelming. In a wooden bin, there was an orangish, yellow fruit. She had taken a whiff as though she were a child smelling flowers and asked the Human vendor what they were. The vendor told her that they were called peaches. She had lingered by the bin for a few moments before rejoining the tour group.

Later that evening in the compound in Sausolito, she asked one of the supply officers if she could possibly acquire some peaches. He indicated that it would not be a problem and half an hour later, T'Pol had taken her first bite of the delicious fruit. She remembered that she had wondered if it were safe. The skin of the fruit had a velvety texture, which had given her pause. The supply officer assured her that it was safe, and warned her that it had a large pit as a core, and she bit into it. Ever since, her favorite fruit, indeed her favorite food, had always been the peach.

Her euphoric reverie had entirely relaxed her. Now all thought and feeling had been driven from her mind. She opened her eyes, and began to calculate the problem again. Still, nothing came to her from conscious or unconscious thought. She worked the problem yet again. It was no good. They simply had to wait until the engines were operational again. So be it. They would wait. They had little information at their disposal, but they had information all the same. They had the phase variance of the vortex. They had logged the designs of the alien ships. They had Captain Archer's own testimony of his first experience on the alien craft.

They had the phase variance. It was strange—no. Strange was not an adequate discription. Abnormal was the proper word. The frequency was...off. It was as though the vortex moved beyond the realm of normal space and past subspace. The ships astrometric readings of the vortex were not reliable, either. The readings seemed to invert. T'Pol could not imagine what it could all mean. She knew what it looked like, but if that were the case, then it could only mean that for many years the Vulcan Science Directorate had been wrong. It could only mean that their detemination concerning time travel had been premature. The readings may have been falsefied, and they may not have. T'Pol did not want to imagine what could all mean, for if it were true, then what force in the twenty-second century could possibly stand against this unseen enemy?

The readings were there however, and the information was there. With time and research, perhaps Enterprise could duplicate this vortex. Perhaps it would allow them to track down these abductors. They would wait and when they were prepared, they would pursue this enemy. Jonathan Archer would never give up on T'Pol. She would never give up on him.


End file.
